


Service Dogs, Support Groups, and Avengers: Oh My!

by o0citrusee0o



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety Disorder, Avengers Family, Chronic Illness, Disabled Character, Dogs, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Service Dogs, Support Group, Team Bonding, Therapy Dog, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2020-12-24 15:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0citrusee0o/pseuds/o0citrusee0o
Summary: Peter Parker's life has never been normal. Normal is something he gets further from each year he gets older.Recently his new normal involves a service dog, therapist visits, medication, and a medical alert bracelet.Taking these things into stride, Peter feels he's adapted pretty well.So does May and his therapist, in fact they'd like the teen to branch out his social life: by attending a support group.Not just any support group, Marvel Community Center's Individuals with Service Dogs Support Group.And thus begins Peter's journey meeting some very unique people who may just leave a lasting impression on Peter's life.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Service dog AU no one asked for but your getting anyways





	1. Arrival

“It’s just an hour Peter, it’s going to be alright, I promise.”

Peter Parker’s Aunt May leans over and squeezes the teen’s tense shoulders. The gesture was to comfort him but he is to stressed for it to help. The teen just lets out a shaky breath while staring blankly at the building.

The one-story cream building wasn’t unfriendly in appearance. With a fenced in play area, little garden decorated with hand painted signs, cheerfully decorated bike rack, and giant community center sign gave the place a friendly and inviting appearance to most people passing by it. 

But Peter isn’t like most people. The teen looks average enough with his unkempt brown waves, brown eyes behind thick glasses, summer clothes flopping around his thin frame, but the shiny medical alert bracelet on his wrist and the dog wearing the blaringly noticeable vest at his side are a reminder he isn’t like most people. 

Not anymore. 

Was he ever normal though?

Besides, most people choose to come to a community center willingly. Peter is standing before the building less than willingly. 

“The group meets for an hour. I’ll stay near the room but since you’re the one with the service dog, you’ll be going into the room,” his aunt informs him as she nudges him towards the building.

“I don’t know Aunt May,” Peter murmurs, “I already have a therapist, I don’t really think I need a support group with strangers too.”

“But Peter these people will understand you better. They can answer questions you may have that myself or your therapist or your doctor can answer since they have service dogs and we don’t.”

Peter grips the leash attaching him to his service dog Karen tighter while audibly exhaling. The black lab shifts her sitting position, scooching her butt closer to the teen’s feet in response. 

Ever since he had become more stable physically and mentally, his therapist and aunt have been mentioning going to a support group. They say its 'to expand his social circle with people who can understand his situation'. Marvel Community Center has several support groups, community outreach programs, and a friendly atmosphere. But what drew his aunt and therapist to this location out of all other places in New York City is that this location is one of only a few that offer a support group for individuals with service dogs. His therapist suggested this support group because it’s a lighter topic in comparison to all the other things that have happened in Peter’s life. In fact his therapist and his aunt suggested it at least once a week for two months. It was that once a week conversation that finally wears away at Peter’s denial until this point: agreeing to go to one meeting to get them to stop bringing it up. 

“Oh look, that must be Mr. Coulson!”

His aunt draws his attention to a man in dress pants and pale polo coming towards them with a smile. The short man comes up to a stop before the pair with a big smile on his face.

“May and Peter Parker I assume?”

“You must be Mr. Coulson,” May shakes the man’s hand, “it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure is mine and please call me Phil,” the man adds as he turns to Peter. “It’s nice to meet you Peter,” he holds out his hand.

Peter nods while shaking the man’s hand, “nice to meet you too sir.” 

The man nods and claps his hands together, “shall we get going?” 

Peter follows the two adults with a ‘up Karen’, the black lab falling into step beside her handler.

Mr. Coulson guides them towards the front door of the building. “Sorry for the early morning time frame on a Saturday but we like to have the meeting scheduled when there are less kids and programs going to prevent stress for the attendees. This is supposed to be a relaxing time of bonding between members of the meeting.”

“That sounds reasonable. How many people usually attend?” May probes as they reach a front desk where a woman sits typing on her computer and only acknowledges them with a glance.

“Well the group ranges from five people to ten depending on the day. Every other month we have one day where we schedule an extra meeting for the group so they bring their loved ones to participate. Those days the number is a bit higher.” 

Mr. Coulson takes a paper from the woman who had stopped typing and hands it to Peter’s aunt. “forgive me but we do have guardians fill out a basic sign-in form for underaged attendees. Also in case something happens with Peter during a session, we would like to have the information on what to do.”

“Of course,” May snatches up the page and begins filling it out swiftly, finishing in record time compared to the last few times she’s had to fill out forms for the teen.  
Coulson takes the sign-in page from May, handing it to the secretary after glancing it over himself. 

“I’d like to stay nearby in case Peter needs me,” May adds as Coulson directs the pair down a hallway to the left with several art decorated doors.

“Absolutely,” the man nods, “I don’t lead the meeting, one of our councilors leads it, so I can show you around to our various waiting areas or if you want I can show you a list of our few other early morning activity groups available.”

“I thought you said there wasn’t much going on at this time?”

“There isn’t for kids but we do have three activity groups for adults and two more support groups at this time, all of which are lowkey,” Coulson corrects as they come to stop before a door decorated with red, white, and blue stars. “Here’s the room. I’m going to go get Sam and he’ll help you get acclimated to the room and group members as they arrive,” Coulson quickly dashes into the room.

May turns to her silent nephew, the teen had not said anything at all which isn’t surprising in a new environment.

“You’re going to be ok Peter,” she quietly comforts him as she rubs his shoulders one more time. “I’m going to be here and remember: we try this once and if it doesn’t work we’ll back off for a bit.”

“Just like the ‘no thank you’ bite?” Peter finally looks up with a smirk at the woman.

She nods with a smile, “yes, just like the ‘no thank you’ bite. Try it once before you say no.”

They are interrupted as the door opens again; Phil Coulson comes out with a second person in tow. 

The second man is taller and darker both in skin color and clothing choice with his dark green polo and dark blue jeans. But despite that, he wears a large bright smile that Peter actually finds rather reassuring. 

“May and Peter, this is Sam Wilson,” Coulson introduces the man, “he’s in charge of leading this group.”

Sam holds out his hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you both,” shaking both May and Peter’s hands in sequence. “And may I ask who this lovely lady here is?”

Peter nods, “this is Karen,” the dog glances at Peter when he says her name.

“Well,” Mr. Wilson meets the dog’s eyes, “its nice to meet you Miss Karen.” The man turns to Peter and his aunt, “now myself and several others are trained in first aid, crisis intervention, and we also have an intercom system in this room due to the sensitive nature of our members. Is there anything in particular that we should be watching for or something we should have prepared for you Peter?”

Peter shakes his head, “that sounds fine. I should be ok for an hour, plus I have Karen.”

“I’ll be nearby if anything comes up,” May speaks up, “but I thought its best to have Peter go in alone since this is for him and not me.”

Sam nods, “understandable. You guys are early enough that Peter is the first to arrive. I’m expecting at least four more, maybe a few more if the others are free.”

“OK Peter,” May turns to the boy, “you go with Mr. Wilson, I’ll be waiting nearby, you have Karen with you too. Remember,” she leans closer to whisper to him, “let’s try this once before we say ‘no’. Ok?”

The teen nods with a small smile, looking up and meeting her eyes nervously. 

“Ready Peter,” Mr. Wilson opens the door to the room wider.

The teen nods, casting one last glance at his aunt as she waves and is guided by Coulson who launches into a list of information on other things the community center offers. 

“Ok then,” Mr. Wilson gestures for the teen to enter the room, “welcome to Marvel Community Center’s Individuals with Service Dogs Support Group.”


	2. Introductions

Peter enters the medium sized wood panel and wood floor room finding only a circle of plastic chairs and a small plastic rectangle table off to the side as the only furniture.

“Sometimes members will bring snacks so we put those on the table,” Mr. Wilson gestures to the table.

“Did I need to bring something?” Peter finally speaks worriedly, his hands brushing along Karen’s head methodically. 

“Oh no, it’s just we have a couple members who bake a lot and another that randomly brings food sometimes, it’s not a requirement.” Mr. Wilson quickly responds.

Peter nods and wonders if maybe he should’ve brought something anyways since he is new.

Mr. Wilson guides Peter to the circle of chairs while gesturing to the blankets and pillows piled in the center, “We also provide blankets and beds for the dogs since the hard floor isn’t to ideal for them. You can take whatever you like, its first come-first serve and don’t let the other members tell you otherwise.”

Peter nods, stopping his petting motion, and moves to the pile. 

He claims a blue and red dog bed pillow for Karen.

“I usually sit here,” Mr. Wilson points to the chair facing the doorway, “you can sit anywhere you feel most comfortable.”

Peter leads Karen to the chair next to Mr. Wilson's, flopping the pillow bed in front of it.

“Ball Karen,” Peter states while pointing to the pillow.

The black lab steps onto the pillow bed, circling twice before curling up into a ball on it with a huff.

Peter steps around her and sits in the chair, digging his toes under the pillow bed to feel Karen’s calm inducing weight on them.

“So usually I just hang out until the others show. Most of them are on time, although we have a couple that like to arrive late and with flare. Everyone here is pretty nice, just some are more talkative then others so don’t take it personally if a few may talk your ears off while a couple others may not talk to you all. In fact one of our members didn’t talk to me for over a month which was really making me worry as a counselor.” 

Peter chuckles, “I’ll keep that in mind Mr. Wilson.”

“And that’s another thing kid,” Mr. Wilson sits beside Peter. “You can call me Sam. Everyone else does, even the kids over in the program area.”

“Oh, ok—Sam.”

Before the man could say anything else the door opens, drawing the pair’s attention and Karen even opens her eyes to watch the newcomers.

“Speaking of the devil of silence,” Mr. Wil—Sam murmurs.

In walks a tall muscular man with brown hair tied up into a bun on his head with his dirty jeans, biker boots, and leather jacket looking like he may ride a motorcycle. Peter’s eyes shift to the empty dangling sleeve and dog at his side probably preventing the motorcycle idea from being a possibility. 

The German Shepard walks dutifully beside her handler, camo vest decorated with patches and pockets with the occasional tinging of her tag hitting the hook on her lead. 

The man is looking at his feet like Peter did earlier, not noticing Peter until he enters the circle of chairs to get a blanket for his dog. As he stands up with a gray and red blanket he finally makes eye contact with the teen and freezes.

“Good morning Bucky,” Mr. Wil—Sam speaks up, “this is our newest member.”

“Hi,” Peter speaks up, “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

“James. Barnes,” the man murmurs quietly. 

Peter is confused. He swore Sam said ‘Bucky’ a moment ago when addressing the man.

“James goes by Bucky with his friends,” Sam fills in as he sees the teen’s confusion.

“Oh,” Peter nods, “sorry I’m just Peter, no nicknames.”

“Not yet,” Mr. Barnes murmurs quietly, “but if some of the others have a say I’m sure you’ll get some kind of nickname before the day is over.”

“Wow,” Sam sits back down beside Peter, “that’s the most Bucky’s ever said to a new person on the first meeting.” The man jabs Peter in the shoulder, “you’re pretty lucky.”

“Thanks, I think,” Peter replies slowly.

“My girl’s name is Winter,” Bucky gestures to the Shepard now rolled up in a ball much like Karen.

“This is Karen,” Peter pets her on the head.

They sit quietly for a few more moments when the door opens again. This time handler and dog don’t enter together but rather the dog enters first. The Golden Retriever stepping happily into the room with its tail wagging quickly. The man following is as blonde as his dog and carrying two boxes of very familiar colors. 

“Hey people! I brought donuts!” the man calls out loudly while dropping the boxes onto the table.

Mr. Barnes stands and goes to the table, digging through the boxes with his one hand. Sam stands but doesn’t follow, rather he clears his throat for the newcomer’s attention.

“Clint this is our newest member,” Sam gestures to Peter.

“Oh hey fresh meat,” the man named Clint bounds over as excitedly as his dog. “I’m Clint Barton and this beauty is Hawk,” he gestures to the golden retriever. 

Mr. Barton holds out his hand waiting for Peter to respond.

With a deep breath and a hesitant smile, Peter accepts the loud man’s hand, “Peter Parker. This is Karen.” 

“Great to meet you, now go grab a donut kid before Winter’s soldier goes and eats them all,” Mr. Barton adds before dashing off to the table.

Peter debates about following Mr. Barton and Sam to the table but the door opens again and his attention shifts to the next to arrive. 

The biggest service dog Peter’s ever seen in person walks in beside a slow-moving man. 

“Rhodes you made it!” Mr. Barton calls from the table of snacks.

The thin, dark skinned man steps slowly towards the direction of the adults with a white smile and a hand on the dog’s specialized stiff harness.

“Of course I did, had to start sooner than the rest of you but I got here,” he waves at the hip to feet braces on his legs. 

“Rhodes we have a new member today,” Sam adds and points towards Peter who still has yet to go get a snack.

The man pauses and turns to smile at the teen, switching his destination from the table to Peter.

“Well it’s good to see someone young, being surround by old guys is not helping my social skills,” Mr. Rhodes chuckles as he reaches Peter. “I’m James Rhodes. Most call me Rhodes or Rhodey. This is Patriot,” he waves at the large but steady Bernese Mountain dog. 

“Peter,” Peter holds out his hand to shake the man’s, “and this is Karen.” 

“Come get a donut Peter or you’ll never get a chance with the way those guys are eating.”

Mr. Rhodes doesn’t move until Peter stands. 

“Up Karen,” Peter murmurs and the black lab who was dozing now snaps to attention.

They reach the table where Mr. Rhodes takes up a glazed donut while Peter munches on a jelly filled one. Mr. Barton is talking to Sam about some kids, his maybe, while Mr. Barnes just eats silently while watching everyone despite Mr. Rhodes attempts at starting conversations with the man. Peter focuses on the calm, friendly atmosphere, trying to use it to keep calm. 

The door opens but then closes without someone entering. Peter can see the shadow of someone outside of the door but whoever it is doesn’t come in.

“Welp Bruce is here today,” Mr. Barton speaks around his donut filled mouth.

The door opens a second time and the person finally enters. 

The person is a very familiar short brunette man with glasses. A face Peter has only seen on websites and academic papers. Doctor Bruce Banner. THE Bruce Banner! 

His inner science nerd nearly screaming at this moment. Peter feels his stomach flip flop with excitement and nerves, one hand instinctually reaching to pet Karen. 

Beside the doctor is a pale yellow lab that Peter’s never seen in any of the photos before. The bulky dog is built with more muscle mass then Karen has or ever will get. The big beast trudges beside his handler at the same slow pace the doctor walks.

“Bruce! Glad you could make it,” Mr. Barton calls out and points at the table, “I brought snacks and Sam brought a new friend.”

Mr. Barton waves rapidly towards Peter. The teen swallows his food and offers a small finger wiggling wave at the man with his free hand. 

Doctor Banner pauses in his walk for a second as he eyes Peter before continuing his slow pace to the table, fingers tapping nervously on his thighs. 

“Banner this is our newest member,” Sam goes to place a hand on Peter but pauses and decides to wave at the teen instead.

Peter rubs his free hand on his pants, his other stroking Karen’s head still, before reaching out, “I’m Peter Parker.”

The doctor reaches out and accepts the hand, “I’m Bruce—”

“Doctor Bruce Banner!” Peter cuts him off excitedly. His inner nerd wins over his nervousness, “I’m a big fan sir. Your papers on fine tuning gamma radiation knives for cancer patients was amazing. Also your theoretical paper about possible environmental improvements by using innovated batteries based on radiation theories. You had some more in-depth research then most. And not to mention I did a report based on your—oh gosh I’m rambling---I’m so sorry,” Peter gasps out and realizes he is still holding the man’s hand for the whole moment of rambling. 

Peter drops the man’s hand swiftly.

Doctor Banner just chuckles, “it’s alright, I’m just surprised someone younger than myself has read those papers.”

“Oh our advanced chemistry class has a small overview of your work actually,” Peter nods, “so lots of students at my school know about you.”

“Geez kid,” Mr. Barton cuts in, “what kind of school do you go to?”

“Oh ah Midtown School of Science and Technology. It’s a STEM school over in Queens,” Peter replies as he feels his cheeks warm up.

“That’s not any STEM school,” Doctor Banner responds, “that’s a school for smart kids. You must be quite gifted to get in there.”

Peter shrugs, “I just like science.”

Mr. Barton laughs, “a humble genius. Don’t see that very often.”

All the men chuckle as if on some kind of joke that Peter is clueless of. The teen strokes Karen’s head faster, the dog moving to sit against his shins. 

“Well its nice to meet you Peter. You can call me Bruce by the way. Doctor Banner is for special work stuff.” Peter nods at the man. Doctor---Bruce reaches down and pets his own dog, “this big guy is Hulk.”

“This is Karen,” Peter responds while still petting her. 

“Bruce or Rhodes,” Sam cuts in, “do either of you know if Tony is coming?”

“Well,” Mr. Rhodes swallows a bite, “Pepper threatened him to leave his lab so he’ll probably arrive shortly after we sit down with some dramatic flair.”

Peter wonders who this Tony is that he can waltz in after a meeting starts without bothering the other attendees.

“Anyone hear from Thor or Loki?” Mr. Barton asks.

“Thor said maybe next week,” Bruce replies as he munches on his sprinkle donut. 

“Well let’s get seated than,” Sam responds, “I’m sure once we do and have the dogs settled he’ll pop in.”

With that the older men move towards the circle of chairs. Peter follows Sam closely, plopping down in his chair with a ‘ball Karen’ command causing the dog to curl up on the red and blue pillow bed again.

Peter digs his toes under the fluff again, finding comfort in the weight of the dog. Glancing up, he watches each man grab a pillow or blanket, placing them in front of their chairs and giving similar commands to their dogs. 

“Alright,” Sam rubs his hands together, “lets start with—”

The door swings open swiftly, the sound of shoes clicking on the floor fills the room.

“You can start the party now that I’m here!” 

While the adults groan at the newcomer’s entrance, Peter’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Tony Stark. THE Anthony Stark of Stark Industries. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, engineer extraordinaire. The man Peter’s only seen on a glowing screen stands in real life within throwing distance of him.

The man stands in a gray suit, very different from the jeans clad crew, putting his sunglasses in his pocket with the classic flourish Peter’s seen in the media. 

Beside him walks a standard poodle, her black hair cut short, and wears a vest that is obviously one of kind considering the red and gold theme with unique patches and stitching. 

Peter feels his breath hitch, excitement and nervousness fighting in his gut for power. 

Peter feels Karen move into sitting position, leaning heavily against his legs, her head in his lap now. 

Peter strokes the soft spot between her ears as his mind races forward.

The man who single handedly turned a company from decades of weapon manufacturing to a company providing technological advancements in many areas. The man who created the first working arc reactor that provides sustainable green energy unlike any ever seen. The man who is known for creating advanced AI systems. The man who spends hundreds of thousands every year on STEM expos to provide kids like Peter a place to explore, learn, and even compete. Peter’s life goal is to compete in a Stark Expo ever since he was a small kid. 

And this man was now walking across the room towards the circle of chairs, flopping into the one next to Doctor Banner—Bruce. Its when he reaches for a red and gold blanket for his dog that he notices Peter for the first time. 

“Hello there,” the man sits up with his trademark smile, “I’m Tony Stark and this is Friday. What’s your name underoos?” 

“Ah,” Peter’s breath catches causing a cough. “Parker. Peter. Peter Parker,” the teen responds with verbal fumbling, “this is Karen,” he moves both hands onto the dog to rub her ears. 

“Right,” Sam cuts in, “I think its time we got started. Welcome everyone to this week’s meeting for Individuals with Service Dogs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky  
.........dog: Winter  
.........breed: German Shepard  
Bruce  
.........dog: Hulk  
.........breed: yellow Labrador retriever mix  
Tony  
.........dog: Friday  
.........breed: standard Poodle, black color  
Rhodey  
.........dog: Patriot  
.........breed: Bernese mountain dog  
Peter  
.........dog: Karen  
.........breed: black Labrador retriever  
Clint  
.........dog: Hawk  
.........breed: Golden Retriever
> 
> also: Tony isn't Iron man which mean Jarvis is still an AI in this world.....and despite no Civil War issues Rhodey is still injured, just a different back story on that....


	3. Meeting time

“Ok,” Sam sat back in his chair, “so we have a new friend and also to remind our regulars who like to go off topic, here is a run down of our meetings. We like to open with introductions—”

“Which we already did,” Mr. Barton cut in.

“Thank you Clint,” Sam sighs, “then we have open sharing time to discuss things. Like if you and your dog encountered certain situations or if you have questions that you think the others can help you with or if we don’t have anything to share about, we move onto the week’s conversation topic. That’s where a topic is introduced for us to talk about, like about our feelings or how we would handle things or if we’ve had similar situations and so on.” 

Peter nods, still petting Karen’s head diligently. 

If anyone seemed to care about the dog being in an alert position they didn’t show it. 

“Also we have a few rules,” Sam lowers his voice some, “we don’t judge each other, we don’t allow negative language towards each other and selves, and if you ask about why each person has a dog they have a right to decline answering. So do you too.”

Peter nods, “I understand.” 

“Alright, anyone want to start our sharing time?” Sam glances around the circle. 

There is that awkward silence that Peter remembers from school that answers Sam’s question.

A throat clears and everyone’s attention shifts. 

The one armed Mr. Barnes shifts in his seat, from the wide eyes of the other men its easy for Peter to assume he doesn’t often volunteer to talk.

“Yes Bucky?” Sam prompts him. 

“The other day,” the man starts quietly while staring at the floor, “I went to the sandwich shop. A lady in line kept making kissing noises at Winter and trying to get Winter to come over while we waited.”

“What did you do Bucky?” Sam prompts further.

“I asked her to stop cuz Winter’s working. I even said please.”

“Did she?”

Mr. Barnes shakes his head, hair bobbing. 

The others hiss and moan, each man wearing a frown.

“W-what did you do after that?” Peter asks nervously.

“I left with Winter while my boyfriend waited for our food,” Mr. Barnes shrugs. 

“I hate that,” Mr. Barton speaks up, “as if these guys are pets who just get to wander around with us for kicks and giggles rather then for work. A few weeks ago some teenagers kept trying to pet Hawk and distracted my dog. Hawk didn’t alert me to an oncoming cyclist and it was a close call.”

Peter gasps and grips Karen closer. 

What if that’s him?

What if someone distracts Karen and he gets hurt?

What if he isn’t brave enough to tell people to stop?

How can he go about his life if this happens?

Suddenly his attention shifts. Karen is in his lap.

The dog’s front half is in his lap, weighing down on Peter’s legs.

He had been shaking his legs again.

Thanks to Karen his leg shaking is no longer as violent as it had been back in the beginning, he used to bang his legs up and down so hard he’d bruise himself. 

Not anymore.

Thanks to Karen.

“Peter?”

Peter takes a breath. A slow one like his therapist and May tell him to do.

“Peter?”

Peter looks up to find Sam had moved his chair in front of the teen to block out the rest of the circle.

When had the man moved there?

“Peter, can I touch you? I’d like to put my hand on your shoulder, that’s all.” Sam holds up his hand non-threatening. 

Peter nods, “release Karen.”

Karen lowers herself to the pillow but still sitting up alert, eyes on her handler.

Sam reaches out and squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“Peter I can see you upset, can you tell me what upset you?”

Peter shrugs.

“Was it something Clint said?”

Peter shrugs.

“Was it something Bucky said?”

Peter shrugs.

“Do you need to stop? I can go get your aunt.”

Peter shakes his head.

Taking a shuddering deep breath, Peter focuses on the man’s collar.

“What if I can’t do that?” he whispers.

“Can’t do what Peter?” Sam probes quietly.

“Tell people to leave Karen alone,” he replies, “I don’t like talking to strangers. Aunt May and my therapist talked to me for weeks about this group. But you can’t talk about strangers and prepare for them because its all so random. If people want to interact with Karen I’ll probably want them to give me space so Karen will have to be working on commands but then will she if someone is trying to get her attention.” 

Peter felt his breath catch as his thoughts begin to spiral.

Karen moves her head into his lap, resting some weight on him and creating a calming point for the teen to anchor to.

“Take a deep breath Peter,” Sam commands him gently. “you’re ok.”

Peter nods and breathes a few deep times.

“Now Peter is it alright for me to move my chair? Is it alright for you to see the rest of the group?”

Peter pauses for a second.

“These guys are not going to judge you. They’ve been in your shoes before and even now they still have moments,” Sam’s calm voice reduces Peter’s heart rate as the teen focuses on him.

“Yeah, you can move.”

The man picks up his chair, moving it quietly back beside Peter.

“Peter.”

The teen looks up to see Mr. Barnes looking at him from under his hair.

“I’ve had Winter for two years now and I’m just now in recent months beginning to ask people to leave my dog alone. For the longest time my boyfriend has been the one to say something when he is around.”

“When he’s not?” Peter inquires

“There have been several times where I’ve left places because I couldn’t deal with people,” the man replies calmly. He takes a breath, “I have some anxiety and really bad PTSD from being a POW. People being to close, engaging with strangers, going to new places, and more tend to set me off. I can even be dangerous when my head goes off into another place. On top of all of that I need some physical help,” he waves at his empty sleeve, “so going out is hard. But I don’t regret going out. Sometimes its hard, sometimes its frustrating, but I don’t regret it.”

Peter nods, glancing away from the man’s steel gray gaze, a bit to intense for him.

“Peter kid,” Mr. Barton catches his attention.

“That story, about those teens, nothing super bad happened. Just me fumbling out of the way for the cyclist.”

“But they distracted Hawk,” Peter responds.

“Yes they did, its going to happen. In a perfect world it wouldn’t happen but we don’t live in a perfect world. For me its about adapting and surviving, moving on and making sure I have the best moments I can.” 

Peter glances down at Karen, “that’s a nice motto.”

“I need you to look up kiddo. I may have hearing aids but they don’t give me perfect hearing. I need to see your lips to read them,” Mr. Barton calls over.

“Oh,” Peter’s neck nearly cracks as his head snaps up, “I’m so sorry Mr. Barton. I was saying that you have a nice motto.”

Mr. Barton chuckles, “easy kid don’t stress to much. Also call me Clint. Or Uncle Clint if you want a title.”

Peter makes a face with a light chuckle, “I don’t know Mr. B-Clint.”

The man shrugs, “its worth a try. Don’t got any nieces or nephews, thought I’d try getting one a different way.”

“Stop trying to expand your already big family Clint,” Mr. Rhodes cuts in, “let those with small or no families adopt the kid.”

“You can’t talk,” Clint snaps, “you have nieces and nephews already.”

“Bucky, Tony, and Bruce should be the ones to try for the uncle thing since we’ve got no families,” Mr. Rhodes replies.

“How did we end up on this topic,” Dr. Banner groans, “they’ll be arguing this now.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs to the man.

“No its not you, Clint ends up starting something with one of us every session. Its like his superpower, starting trouble for fun,” Mr. Stark replies with a chuckle. 

“Ok back on track gentlemen,” Sam cuts in, “Bruce, Tony, Rhodey do any of you have suggestions for Peter?”

Doctor Banner speaks up, “People are always interested in Hulk here. The first thing I learned was my statement the whole “this is my dog whose got a job and so on”. I make my statement then carry on with my day and try to ignore people.” 

“Does it get easier Doctor Banner?” Peter inquires.

“Call me Bruce. Some parts get easier while other parts are always tricky,” the man sighs. “As Clint says: address it and move on, try to make the best of things and not let people stop you.”

“Most people leave me alone since its obvious I need Patriot,” Mr. Rhodes adds.

“Must be nice to have a noticeable reason for a dog,” Clint snorts.

“Doesn’t always make its easier, have you tried to go through life with one hand?” Bucky snaps.

“Oh no, I’m stopping you all here,” Sam stands up, “we are not going to do this argument again. This is about Peter right now.”

“They can talk about whatever they need to,” Peter speaks up, “I don’t want to take up everyone’s time.”

“Listen here Underoos,” Mr. Stark finally speaks up, “its going to be hard no matter how many years of experience you have. There will always be that Tom, Dick, and Harry who ask for papers, who try to touch and wave at your dog, who try demanding to know your “problem” that you need a dog for. I believe the best advice we all can give you is that you shouldn’t dwell on what other people say and do. Just live your own life. Say what you need to say to them and do what you need to do, then move onto another location so that you don’t suffer because of those idiots.” 

“Underoos?” Peter asks with a small smirk.

“Out of all I just said, that’s the part you take away from it all?” Mr. Stark sighs with a smile.

“Oh I’m committing everything you say to memory, sir,” Peter sits up straighter.

Mr. Stark raises his eyebrow in the trademark look he’s known for, “really?”

“Oh yes Sir.” Peter moves toward the edge of his seat. “You’re THE Tony Stark. The man who single handedly showed the world its never to late to have a second chance. The man who created the first working arc reactor that provides sustainable green energy unlike any ever seen. The man who is known for creating advanced AI systems. The man who spends hundreds of thousands every year on STEM expos! I dream the day I can win a chance to show at an expo—” Peter takes a breath, realizing he’s been babbling again.

“Sorry Sir, I’m babbling again,” Peter goes back to looking at Karen’s ears like they’re something special. 

“Given what kind of school you go to, I’m surprised you haven’t gone yet,” Docto—Bruce cuts in.

“What school do you go to?” Mr. Stark inquires.

“Midtown Science and Technology,” Peter replies with a shrug.

“That’s a genius school,” Mr. Stark replies.

“And he’s studied my work,” Bruce adds, “and he understood a lot of it.”

“Really?” 

Peter glances up to see both men eyeing him up.

“Well Doctor---I mean Bruce is super smart and has great ideas too. I studied one of his chemistry theory papers to get an idea for my project that I want to submit to an expo someday.” 

“Really? I’m surprised you haven’t tried for the expo yet if you’ve been working on this secret project,” Mr. Stark smiles at him.

Peter shrugs, “Midtown only sends their top five. So we have to compete within the school first. Plus I’m a scholarship student, the school only pays the entrance fee so I have to come up with money for my project materials, displays, and any additional expenses I’d have at the expo. Plus,” he waves at Karen, “something came up at the end of the school year last year.”

“I see,” Mr. Stark says thoughtfully.

“How long have you had Karen, if you don’t mind?” Clint probes.

“I don’t mind. Karen was supposed to be someone else’s dog but the handler ended up switching their plans. My aunt used my Uncle’s life insurance money to get me a dog. There were issues with our insurance. When we went to the place two months ago, Karen happened to match up perfectly to me which was shocking since we were told I’d have to pick a puppy to get trained for me. Sorry I’m babbling again--”

“So you’ve had Karen for two months?” Clint sums up.

Peter nods, “yeah. Best two months ever though,” he pets the dog more. 

Karen looks at him in a way Peter interprets as doggy love.

“Looks like you lose for having the newest dog Tony,” Mr. Rhodes laughs.

Peter glances up to see Mr. Stark smiling and nodding, “looks like it. Here that FRIDAY?”

The dog lifts her head up to glance at her handler before huffing and laying back down again. 

“Well,” Sam clears his throat, “we’ve now hit quite a few topics. Mind if I bring us all back to where we started? We were talking about dealing with people’s reactions to our dogs. Do we have anyone want to share more on this topic or do we want to switch the topic officially?” 

There is a quiet pause, each man sending a quick glance at Peter.

Peter responds by raising his hand.

“This isn’t school Undroos, you can just talk out,” Mr. Stark chuckles.

“Well the thing is,” he shifts in his seat, “my Aunt and therapist are suggesting I make cards to put in Karen’s vest for when I’m struggling to explain to people about Karen, especially at school. I missed the end of last school year, I mean I still passed into the next grade because I did everything from home, but people don’t know why. I know people are going to ask but I’m not sure I’ll be ready to talk about it with everyone. All they know is I got “sick” last March and then was just gone day and now I’m going to just show back up but now with a dog. Would it seem rude to just hand over a card even though I’m completely capable of talking?”

“Well first off,” Mr. Rhodes leans in, “you don’t have to explain the details of why you have a dog to people. Just the general, “my dog is here to assist with my medical needs” is what you can say, don’t let people bully you into revealing things you don’t want to. Its impolite and illegal. Second off, if you want to use a card to tell people about Karen I don’t see why not. Other people’s opinions shouldn’t matter. Sometimes those opinions bother us but in the end: do what helps you most.”

“From what I’m hearing,” Sam leans in, “things are rather new for you.” 

Peter nods.

“You’re handling it better than me,” Mr. Stark leans in.

“Really?” Peter is surprised by this.

“Oh yes, I kept refusing I needed Friday for a long time. Then when I got Friday I spent a month avoiding the public because I didn’t want to deal with people’s questions.” Mr. Stark chuckles as if remembering those memories. “But I had friends to help kick my butt into going out and not letting those people get me down. I understand your worry, we all do.”

The group of men all nod to Mr. Stark’s statement. 

“When do you go back to school Peter?” Bruce asks.

“Ah right after Labor Day,” he responds.

“So we have one more meeting before you start,” Bruce murmurs.

“Ok, here’s what I’m thinking,” Sam speaks up, “our hour is up in like two minutes and I’m sure your aunt is hoovering outside that door Peter,” the teen chuckles, “what I’m hoping is that maybe some of our members,” he eyes the grown men one by one, “might be willing to exchange contact info with you. That way you can start being in contact with someone to help you with your questions and concerns outside of this meeting time. I want to help you build a support net before you start school so you have something there to fall back on when you need it.”

As soon as the words exited Sam’s mouth the men were a flurry of action. 

Peter watched them scramble for writing utensils, Mr. Stark demanding for Peter’s phone, and Sam trying to calm the group down.

“Ok gentlemen slow down,” Sam manages to gather attention, “I have a paper right here for whoever wants to leave their info for Peter.”

Each man takes a turn until the small official looking paper is full and Sam is handing it to Peter. 

“Oh uh, this real nice,” Peter sees each man left a phone number and email. “Can you all put down what hours are best to contact you at? I don’t want to be sending emails during important things.”

“Kid,” Mr. Stark leans in, “you have the permission of every man here to bother us at whatever time and we will respond as soon as possible. Heck I would adore for you to interrupt any of my boring work meetings,” Mr. Stark laughs. 

Sam nods and claps his hands together once, “well gentlemen, a good start with our newest friend. Clint I’m sure I hear your minions voices nearby.”

“Probably,” the man stretches, “lets work Hawk.”

Clint waves his goodbye and opens the door in time for a small boy to jump him. Clint ushers the child and the sounds of other voices makes Peter realizes more kids maybe out there too. Clint’s departure ushered the arrival of Peter’s aunt popping into the room.

“Hello, I’m May Parker Peter’s Aunt.” 

“Please come in Mrs. Parker,” Sam waves at Peter’s aunt.

Peter watches his aunt walk in, eye each man in the circle.

“I’m sorry if you guys wanted this to be anonymous,” she starts, “I just was a little worried.”

“No worries Mrs. Parker,” Mr. Stark slaps on his trademark charisma smile, “we aren’t anonymous with families.”

“Mrs. Parker I’ve had these men give Peter their contact information. This way Peter can work on building a support net with like minds before he goes to school.”

Peter’s aunt nods and looks at the paper in Peter’s hands, “that would be nice. We’ve had some worries with school coming up.”

“And feel free to reach out to us too Mrs. Parker,” Mr. Stark continues, “I’m sure I speak for the others with that offer.” 

She nods and places a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “you ready to go or want to stay a few minutes more?”

Peter glances around at the men readying themselves to leave. 

Except Mr. Stark.

The man sits with Sam watching Peter. 

“I’m sure Mr. Stark and Sam have other places to be.”

“Actually Underoos,” Mr. Stark smiles, “Sam is busy but I’m free for the day. I was wondering, would you like to go grab a bite of food with the dogs? If we go together maybe I can help you firsthand with going into public with a dog.”

“Oh Peter,” his aunt whispers, “do you think? Maybe?”

Peter glances between the adults, “Well I kinda want to but—won’t people swarm us cuz you’re famous?”

Mr. Stark laughs, “Not that famous kid and I have a few places we can go were we won’t be bothered. As long as your aunt gives the go ahead.”

“I’m fine with this if Peter is,” his aunt glances at the teen.

“I guess we can go but where will you go May?” the teen realizes his aunt wasn’t on the invite. 

“Your aunt can come to buddy. I wouldn’t want to separate the dynamic Parker duo,” Mr. Stark keeps smiling at the pair.

Peter glances between the adults.

He could say no. 

Go home and do….what?.....tinker more? Watch tv more? Worry about school? Pretend he’s going to run errands but back out last minute?

Or he could suck it up and get food, spend time with his hero and inspiration, with his aunt and Karen. Maybe learn a thing or two about being brave in public with Karen now.

He’ll have Karen.

He’ll have May.

Maybe he can do this.

“Sure, food. I can do food.”

“Great!” Mr. Stark gets up, “to work Friday,” the dog wakes and moves into her ready position. “My driver is waiting so lets go!”

Peter nods, “up Karen.”

Karen’s up and ready, Mr. Stark waving for the humans and dog to follow him and his shadow.

“Lets hit the road then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reasons for their dogs, revealed so far
> 
> Bucky....Anxiety and PTSD and occasional mobility  
Rhodey...mobility needs  
Clint...hearing assistance


	4. Brunch with Tony

Tony Stark is known for being a man who enjoys fancy clothes, fancy cars, and fancy food. 

Sitting in the back of one of Mr. Stark’s cars, Peter felt his stomach twist in worry. 

Mr. Stark didn’t drive, rather his driver, a man named Happy who looked far from happy, drove the little group to their destination at Mr. Stark’s directions in the passenger seat. 

Karen lays at Peter’s feet, her tail occasionally bumping against Aunt May’s shins when Peter pets her head. 

Friday lays in a ball on Mr. Stark’s feet in the front, the billionaire saying he didn’t want the dog to crowd Peter or his “surprisingly hot aunt”. 

“Ah here we are,” Mr. Stark draws everyone’s attention to the building Happy has pulled up in front of.

Peter lets out the breath he was holding.

They sit before a small diner with a retro style to it. A diner that probably is more in Aunt May’s price range. 

“This maybe a rather dated looking joint but it has some of the best brunch items,” Mr. Stark continues as he exits the car with Friday. 

Peter goes to exit out his side but finds the door locked. He glances over to see his Aunt has gotten out easily, why is his door locked?

“Slide out the other door kid. Don’t want you opening the door into oncoming traffic on that side,” the gruff driver responds to the teen’s tugging on the door handle. 

“Oh, thank you,” Peter is surprised to hear the man worry for the teen’s safety. 

Peter slides out as told to, Karen following easily on four legs and shorter height.

“Alright Happy,” Mr. Stark leans into the open window as the car closes up, “go find a place to park. If you want anything to eat make sure you’re back here asap.”

“I already ate Boss,” the gruff man replies before pulling away just as Mr. Stark lets go of the car window. 

Mr. Stark just laughs at this.

“Sorry about that. Happy takes his job as my chauffeur and bodyguard quite seriously so that makes him a little less personable. Especially with people he’s unfamiliar with.”

“Oh its fine,” May speaks up with a laugh, “I think we made him nervous too.”

The two adults head into the building with Peter trailing behind them by two steps, his hand holding Karen’s lead. Inside Peter finds the place filled with only a few people. Two old men sit at a retro dinning bar chatting over coffee. A young family of four sit at the far end of the row of fifties style booths. Two girls probably around Peter’s age sit at a middle table giggling over their phones. 

Just a few people.

He can do this, its just a few people. 

“Hey Peter!”

Mr. Stark catches Peter’s attention. The teen moves closer to the adults in response as the pair point to a booth in the middle of the row.

“Does this one work for you?” May asks gently.

Peter shrugs, “Just sit were you both are comfortable. I don’t mind where we sit.”

Slight lie.

He didn’t want to sit beside any strangers.

He didn’t want to sit to close to a work station.

He didn’t want to sit right next to the front door.

But he didn’t want to say that. He’s already got May bending over backwards to accommodate him, he won’t make Mr. Stark do that too. He’s trying to be less of a burden.

“Well I think this spot works,” Mr. Stark continues without missing a beat.

The man slides into the booth with ease.

“So when you eat out Peter,” Mr. Stark points at Friday, “depending on the tables and booths you’ll have to take into account for your dog. In booths like these we can have the dogs under the table if only two of us are here. With more people you’ll want to sit on the end of the seat so that you’re near your dog and if needed you can slip out.”

May slides in first and as Mr. Stark said, Peter slides in second.

“So what I like to do is have Friday half under half out,” Mr. Stark pulls lightly on Friday’s lead, “Friday rest.”

The short haired poodle moves under the table, turns around, and lays down. Her rear being under the table while her upper body poking out past the table and seat some.

“Do you have a command for Karen to lay down?”

Peter nods, “should I tell her to lay down or go into a ball?”

“Well it depends on you. If you think Karen will be comfortable in a ball for the entire meal then go ahead, if you think she’ll be uncomfortable then let her lay,” Mr. Stark replies easily. 

A shadow catches Peter’s eye. 

A retro dressed waitress stands a few feet away with menus.

Peter realizes he’s taking too long.

“Hey kiddo,” Mr. Stark draws Peter’s gaze, “don’t worry about other people. Just do what you need to do. There is no rush.”

Nodding, Peter looks down at Karen. He focuses on the dog more than the waitress’ shadow.

“Lay Karen,” Peter commands softly while pointing beside his bench seat.

The dog takes a different position. Unlike Friday Karen lays down with her body protecting the booth seat and part of the table space, parallel with the humans. Oddly enough this made Peter feel more comfortable. 

“That work for you Peter?”

Peter nods at the man, “yeah.”

“Ok good. Well that’s sitting in a booth with a service dog 101. Well my version that is. We’ll also practice other sitting locations before you get to school,” Mr. Stark signaled for the waitress to come close. “I remember when I got Friday, I fumbled for a couple weeks about where to have her sit or lay when I was working or going out. I can at least help you skip some of that fumbling.”

The waitress comes up with the usual server smile plastered on her face.

“Welcome to Peggy’s Place,” the girls hands out the menus. “What kind of drinks can I start you all on?”

“I’ll have a water with lemon,” Aunt May replies sweetly.

“May its my treat, pick whatever you want,” Mr. Stark assures the woman.

“Oh I’m fine with watch actually. Gotta get that daily amount in,” she smiles.

“Fine, I’ll have your traditional strawberry lemonade,” Mr. Stark responds, “Peter what will you like?”

Peter glances at the drink options for a moment.

“I’ll have—ah—how about—can I just have a regular lemonade?”

Peter glances up at the waitress, the girl’s frowns a little at him.

“I’m sorry sweetie I couldn’t hear you very well. What was that order?”

Peter shifts in his seat, takes a deep breath and tries again.

“A lemonade please.”

“Okie dokie. I’ll get right to that order. Look over the menus and if any of you have questions, I’ll answer them as soon as I return.”

The waitress walks off to the bar where the drink machines are sitting.

“Good job Peter,” May’s whisper comes near his ear.

The three become silent as they read the menus. 

Until Mr. Stark starts talking again.

“So Peter, sausage or bacon?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a kid who likes sausage or bacon?”

“Ahh both I guess,” Peter shrugs.

“Same. Well I used to be the same,” Mr. Stark looks down at Friday, “Can’t have that stuff anymore.”

“What? Why?” Peter frowns.

“My heart isn’t the greatest anymore. Between a faulty heart and my blood pressure being erratic I can only have stuff on my diet plan,” Mr. Stark smiles sadly.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Peter murmurs.

Mr. Starks waves off the apology, “no reason for you to apologize. I messed up my body as a young person and now I have to pay the price. I’m pretty lucky so far and I have Friday here to help monitor my blood pressure and heart rhythm too.”

“Oh,” the teen opens his mouth to say more but the waitress interrupts.

“Here’s the drinks,” she smiles and sets the drinks at the edge of the table, Mr. Stark passing May her water. “what can I get you all for food?”

“I’ll have an order of your egg whites, no salt but a dash of pepper,” Mr. Stark launches into his order, “also I’ll have your yogurt and fresh fruit bowl.”

The man gestures at May. 

“I’ll have your French toast with berries,” she adds.

The waitress turns to Peter with a smile, “how about you honey?”

“Ah, yeah. I’ll have the pancake breakfast.”

“How do you want your eggs?”

“Scrambled.”

“Bacon or sausage?”

“Ah sausage today please.”

She nods and begins collecting the menus, “anything else?”

“Nope,” Mr. Stark smiles, “that should be it.” 

The waitress walks off leaving the three to themselves.

“So Peter,” Mr. Stark focuses in on the teen, “your school friends know about this?” he gestures to Karen.

“Well I have one friend,” Peter starts, finding talking to the man easier then expected, “he knows I left sick and Aunt May has told him some stuff.”

“I told Ned the basics, but not about the depth of the situation or Karen,” May adds. 

“Ok I’m going to be honest kiddo, telling my three best friends was the hardest thing I did when I first got my diagnosis. In fact it was Pepper and Rhodey that encouraged me to apply for Friday once they found out. But, after telling them it was much easier to tell other people about my diagnosis.”

“So,” Peter starts between sips of his drink, “are you saying I should sit and talk to Ned about everything first?”

“Before school starts? Exactly. Your friend, Ted or whatever, can probably even help you come up with what to say to kids at school about Karen. It will definitely help.”

Peter shrugs, “That’s kinda scary.”

Mr. Stark leans in, “which part buddy?”

“Telling him everything. I’ll look, well, weak.”

“Peter you’re not weak,” May assures the boy, squeezing his shoulder.

“Exactly right May.” Mr. Stark fixes his gaze at Peter, “you’re not weak kiddo. I’ve only known you for,” he looks at his watch, “an hour and forty-five minutes and I can say with confidence you are not weak.”

“That’s what people will say,” Peter sighs, “that I’m weak and broke under the pressure.”

“Oh Peter, is that what you think?” May sighs, “that’s not true baby. You’ve been through so much.”

“Well kiddo,” Mr. Stark catches his attention again, “how about this. I can give you my official information and if you want you can practice by telling me about what’s going on, one person with a service dog to another.” 

Peter glances around. 

The people in the building are all busy and far away.

May already knows.

Maybe he could try.

May gives him an encouraging smile and nod.

Peter turns back to the man and nods.

“Ok! So lets do this,” Mr. Stark clears his throat and sits back. “Hi my name is Anthony Stark. I like to go by Tony. This is my service dog Friday who is here to do a job, so please don’t distract her. Now I have a service dog due to prolonged heart trauma that has damaged my heart. Friday keeps an eye on my heart’s rhythm and my blood pressure as well as being trained to react when I am having issues. I also have PTSD from being kidnapped and tortured a few years ago which Friday also reacts to. Just because I have an illness and dog doesn’t mean my work will be any less then it has been. Thank you.”

Peter gives a shy smile, patting his hands together in a quiet clapping.

“Smart butt,” Mr. Stark smiles and sips his drink. “your turn kiddo. Whenever you’re ready that is.”

Peter nods and takes a deep breath.

“My name is Peter Parker, not kiddo or buddy,” he gives another smile towards the man who then acts like he’s been wounded. “I have a service dog named Karen. Ah she has a job to do so, so please don’t ah, distract her.” Peter pauses for a moment, licking his lips. “Due to some incidents I need Karen to help me because of my anxiety and PTSD.”

“Great job Peter,” May rubs Peter’s back and looks at Mr. Stark, “this is the first time he’s said that to anyone.”

Mr. Stark nods, “and I thank you for being honest with me Peter.” 

Peter shrugs, “its still not as significant as you’re heart problems.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark catches the teen’s attention, “don’t measure your problems with another’s. No two people have the same illness or the same source, so you can’t compare them. Even if you have PTSD, its different from Bucky’s so even trying to compare those two isn’t appropriate. You are no less deserving of help than anyone else.”

“You’re good at this,” the teen whispers.

“Well years of therapy and meeting with the guys from this morning helps,” Mr. Stark smiles. 

“Mr. Stark? What if people start asking questions? Like what happened to give me PTSD or why I have anxiety? Or why I need the service dog when other people don’t?”

“What about them?”

“What should I say?”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mr. Stark supplies simply. “Those people shouldn’t be asking those questions. Some probably will but its not appropriate and you have no obligation to answer them. If you want to answer such questions then go ahead, but no one can force you to answer them.”  
Peter nods and sips his drink again. 

“Excuse me everyone,” the waitress returns, “I have your food.”

The waitress sets out the food and with a thank you from the adults, she moves along to other guests.

“Well, lets dig in and go back to the hard topics after our stomachs are full,” Mr. Stark adds cheerfully while he mixes his fruit into the yogurt. “May, I heard you get introduced as Mrs. Parker, is your husband working?”

May winces.

Peter’s breath catches.

Ben. 

Ben.

He can hear shouting in his mind. 

Oh god Ben.

Peter can smell damp scent, feel the cool breeze on his face. Something wet is in his hands. 

Looking down he sees blood, its everywhere.

Ben.

Peter looks at the weight in his lap.

Only its not Ben’s head in his lap.

Karen.

Why is Karen in his lap?

Karen isn’t here with Ben.

Wait.

He’s not with Ben.

It’s over.

Blinking a few times more, Peter finds his hands have syrup on them from squeezing the bottle to much. 

It’s not his blood. 

Karen leans over the bench seat, her head and front paws resting on Peter’s lap while her butt continues to hang into the walk way.

“Karen,” Peter whispers. He wants to pet the dog, but his hands.

Peter gives a little moan, shaking his hands.

“Here Peter,” his aunt quickly administers a wet wipe from wherever she stored it. 

As soon as his hands are clean he clutches Karen, squeezing the dog and reassuring himself he isn’t in the street with Ben any more.

“We all ok,” Mr. Stark asks quietly.

Peter ignores him. 

He just had a moment in front of his hero.

A small moment.

But a moment. 

How embarrassing.

“My husband,” May whispers but Peter can still here some. His crappy eyesight is made up with good hearing that people tend to forget or not realize, “was murdered last spring. Peter was there.”

“Oh,” Mr. Stark exhales with a hiss, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Its alright. Everybody seems to ask. Honestly this has been the shortest and most gentle response Peter’s had to that question. Before Karen he’d flashback or get anxiety to the point he would, well, do things. I mean it was always bad. First his parents, then the incident with his sitter, and then my husband, its all been a lot for him.” 

Mr. Stark nods, “for anyone that’d be a lot no matter their age.”

Peter finally exhales and releases Karen. 

“Karen lay,” he whispers. 

The dog returns to her prior position but continues to watch her handler.

“I’m sorry,” the teen whispers.

“Nothing to apologize for kiddo.” Mr. Stark waves him off. “So tell me kiddo, what’s your favorite part about school that you’re looking forward to getting back to?”  
Peter fumbles with his fork, his fingers trembling some from the small attack of his mind. May reaches over and lightly touches his hand. Peter sighs and looks up at his hero.

“I like my robotics club,” Peter sees May pull his plate to her quietly. “Science was fun but things were getting to easy right before I left.”

May pauses in cutting Peter’s pancake, “Peter’s gifted. He got into Midtown on scholarship, maintaining a 4.0---”

“it went down,” Peter interrupted her with a frown.

“To a 3.9. There was so much going on and you kept a perfect score, don’t sell yourself short.” She continues cutting his food, “but he is gifted,” she picks up where she left off, “its been suggested several times in his life that we let him skip grades. But my late husband and I refused, we were worried about his social development honestly.” 

May hands the food back, Peter starts eating with his pathetic trembling fingers. 

He feels so pathetic.

“Peter that’s amazing,” Mr. Stark exclaims, “and I’m glad you didn’t skip grades. I did that and was at MIT by fifteen. Great for mental development in the academics but horrid for my social development. Perhaps later down the road, once you’re settled, we can discuss some extra curricular activities I can hook you up with that can be more stimulating then school.”

“Oh Mr. Stark, really that’s too much,” May gasps.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Stark waves her off, “SI is big into youth programs now a days. I’ve got all sorts of options I can look into. Lots of our programs are free even, making them accessible for the average person.” 

Peter snorts between bites.

“Oh go ahead and make your rich people statement,” Mr. Stark responds with a sly smile.

Peter shrugs, “naw. Its not that.”

“Then why the snort,” Mr. Stark has a genuine look of curiosity towards the teen.

“I forgot for a moment you’re some big wig rich guy while we were talking.” The teen keeps on eating to avoid looking at the man. 

“Oh, well,” Mr. Stark clears his throat, “well I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

They eat quietly for a moment before Mr. Stark interrupts again.

“May what do you do for work?”

She swallows quickly, “oh well I’m a trained nurse, but currently I’m working with a program called FEAST as one of their onsite nurses.”

“Oh we’ve been keeping an eye on that program.” Mr. Stark nods, “Pepper’s been hearing good things about them.”

“Yes its nice, but it’s a new charity and many of us work as volunteers or are hired with funding. I have my husband’s life insurance and other things to help us financially.”

“May was fired because of me,” Peter suddenly blurts out while eyeing his sausage.

“Peter!” May gasps, “I wasn’t fired because of you baby.”

“Yes you were. You were fired because my medical needs kept messing up your work schedule to the point that you couldn’t even work a full shift without something happening.”

“I just keep making a mess of this,” Mr. Stark sighs, “I’m sorry you two. This is my fault.”

“No,” May snaps, “this is no one’s fault. My boss was a rude jerk for years. Peter,” she turns to the teen, “you needing my attention helped give me the confidence to leave my crappy position. I’m happy doing what I’m doing. And Mr. Stark,” she fixes her gaze on the man, “don’t feel sorry for asking normal questions. Life happens, crap happens, good stuff happens and when it does we learn, grow, and move on. Now,” she fixes a sweet smile on her face, “Mr. Stark how long have you been attending that group?” 

“Oh,” the man perks up, “about a year now, maybe a little longer. My friend Rhodey probably knows better me,” Mr. Stark chuckles. 

May nods and smiles, “I see, tell me—” 

“Puppy!”

The squeal cuts off the conversation and catches everyone’s attention in the building.

The young family of four were at the bar checking out, the baby on the mother’s hip while the young toddler girl was now making her way towards the booth housing Peter, his aunt, and Mr. Stark.

“Oh dear,” May whispers.

Peter’s breath picks up.

Shouldn’t the mother stop the little girl?

What if the girl grabs onto one of the dogs?

Why does he have to parent someone else’s kid?

“Please no, no, no, no,” Peter whispers to himself while gripping Karen’s lead. He wasn’t ready to tell kids to go away yet. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Well hello Princess,” Mr. Stark rises from the seat and intercepts the child.

The girl comes to a halt, looking at the man.

“Puppy!” She responds, “I pet pwease?”

“Well these puppies are working so you can’t pet them right now,” Mr. Stark replies nicely to the child.

Peter can only grip the lead, hoping that someday he is that confident at tell people to leave Karen alone without hurting feelings. 

“I said pwease,” the little girl whines.

“I’m sorry princess,” Mr. Stark tries again, “but the puppies are working.”

The little girl stomps her foot and runs to her parents with a ‘mamaaaaa’. 

Mr. Stark stands with a grunt, turning to the pair behind him, “little kids sometimes are difficult since they don’t quite understand the difference between a pet and working dog since they rarely encounter working dogs.” 

Peter hears the man but he doesn’t respond.

“Karen, alert,” he whispers.

It’s enough for the dog moves into position, standing before her handler with her head in his lap while pressing her nose into his stomach. Peter starts petting the dog.

“Good job Peter,” May whispers behind him as she rubs his back, “doing so good recognizing when you need Karen.”

Peter nods and keeps breathing like his therapist told him.

The idea of hurting the feelings of kids in the future by telling them not to touch Karen fills his mind.

He doesn’t want to hurt people’s feelings, especially kids.

“Excuse me,” a voice comes from behind Mr. Stark

Peter glances up from Karen to see Mr. Stark look at the mother of the child.

“I just want to apologize for my daughter trying to pet your dogs and whining,” the woman says while nudging her daughter forward.

“Sowwee mistah,” the little girl replies.

“We tried to explain earlier about the dogs but I don’t think she understood,” the woman winces.

“its ok ma’am,” Mr. Stark wears his trademark smile Peter’s seen on TV, “no harm done.”

“Are you sure?” the woman glances towards Peter.

“Its all fine,” May assures the woman, “right Peter.”

Peter nods.

“Alright, well have a good morning,” the woman tugs the little girl out before anything else could happen.

“You alright Peter?” Mr. Stark speaks quietly. 

Peter shrugs, “what if I hurt the feelings of kids? I have to tell them to leave Karen alone and they’ll be sad. I don’t want to make kids sad.” 

“Oh Peter,” May squeezes the teen’s shoulder, “they’ll be ok. Kids bounce back from that pretty quickly.”

“And,” Mr. Stark cuts in, “eight times out of ten I end up teaching kids about service dogs in the process.” The man signals the waitress, “I think perhaps we should call it a day. What do you think May?”

“Yes,” she nods, “Why don’t we head home for now Peter. We can see Mr. Stark another day.”

“Or just call me later,” the man adds.

“Or that,” she laughs. 

Peter nods, “yah I’m done Aunt May.” 

“Ok,” Mr. Stark plays with his phone, “you two can go outside if you want. I’ll pay and then give you two a ride home.”

“Oh thank you,” May nods as she nudges Peter out of the booth.

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs as Karen takes an alert position at his side.

Once outside and standing against the diner front Peter sighs.

“You did so good Peter,” his aunt hugs him from the side.

“But I had a lapse and nearly had anxiety breakdown,” the teen bemoans.

“Just a small lapse and NEARLY had, you didn’t and you used Karen like you were supposed to. Peter this is so good. You did great for the first eating out since everything. Don’t downplay this sweetie. I’ve been watching you all this time and this was such a good outing baby.”

Peter nods.

Perhaps she’s right.

He didn’t have a huge breakdown.

He made it through the meal.

Unlike last time he tried months ago.

“Hey you two,” Mr. Stark comes out with Karen at his side. “I just want to say this was an amazing breakfast. And Peter,” the teen looks at the man, “this was a good meal. You did great. Better than me after my first time going out with my PTSD.”

“Really?”

The man nods at Peter, “some kid came up to me and asked a question. I freaked out, threw a table, yelled, ran from the restaurant and my friend, and drove off so crazily that I crashed the car two blocks down just to have a panic attack on the side of the road in front of a gathering of strangers. So yeah kid, you did good.”

“Thank you, sir,” Peter murmurs.

Maybe Mr. Stark and May are right.

This did go ok.

Peter finds himself smiling at the pair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn't figure out a good stop spot so you got a long chapter
> 
> ....hope it comes across right....
> 
> *crosses fingers*


	5. Emails

Peter stares at the blinking curser on the white screen with empty eyes. Its as if the rhythmic blinking mocks his inability to write something in the vast white digital page. 

Over an hour ago Peter’s aunt picked up the dinner plates while declaring the teen was off dish washing duty. The catch? She wanted him to email one of the men from the service dog support group.

It was Tuesday night and Peter still hasn’t made contact with anyone from Saturday. 

Peter isn’t intentionally trying to seem rude after the men went through the trouble to give him their contact info. But the teen just struggles with trying to decide what to do and say.

Who should he email?

Which of his many questions should he ask?

It’s overwhelming.

With the groan, the teen drops his head on the desk once again. 

Karen lays beside his desk in her fluffy bed, watching her handler’s internal turmoil and waiting to see if she’s going to be needed. 

“Peter,” May’s voice softly prompts the teen to look up at her. 

May holds a cup in hand with a couple cookies on a plate. 

“Hey Aunt May,” the teen sighs as he leans back.

“Having trouble?” she sets down the items beside the laptop as she glances at the blank document.

“I have questions but I don’t know who to ask about them,” he groans around the bite of chocolate chip cookie. “Like who do I ask about what I should do with Karen during gym class? Or which dog park is the best to take her to? Or who should I ask about which gear I should save up for to get Karen? Wait, what kind of job can a teen get with a service dog? Will I even be able to get a job? Uggg,” Peter groans and runs his hand through his hair repetitively. 

“Now Peter,” his aunt rubs his shoulders, “you’ll get a job when its time. You don’t need one right now.”

“Yes I do,” Peter retorts sadly, “I have to buy Karen dog shoes.”

The woman snorts into her shoulder to avoid upsetting the teen more, “why do you need dog shoes?”

“It says in the paperwork from the company I need to get them for her for the weather but I need to get them early so I can train her to wear them before the ice hits.”

“Peter I’ll get Karen her shoes,” the woman tries to placate the teen.

“You already bought her things and you’re still buying stuff. Between me and dog I doubt there is money for you to even eat.”

Karen moves off her bed, sitting at alert between the teen and his aunt, watching the upset teen dig at his pant leg.

“Peter what is this really about?” the woman prompts gently.

The teen shifts in his chair quietly for a moment. With two more prompts from his aunt, the teen finally breaks.

“I’m worried they’ll be bothered by me. That they gave me their info just to be nice and humor me. Or that I’ll email them during a time that bothers them.”

“Do you want to email Mr. Stark? Are you worried you’re going to be bothering him?” his aunt finally deduces. 

The teen shrugs.

Then nods.

“He’s Tony Stark!” he responds, “I’ve been watching him and reading about him for years. He’s amazing with all he’s done and overcome. I mean I’ve dreamed of participating in an expo! To get the chance just to shake his hand! Just yet now I’ve had breakfast with him and have the chance to email him. I want to talk to him more but I’m worried that I’ll be bothering him, some random teen from Queens.”

“Peter!” his aunt snaps and gets his attention. The woman sighs, “Peter you know your uncle and I have never been fond of your fascination for the man even after he turned over a new leaf. But the man who took us to breakfast was sincere and genuine, I could see it in his eyes. Now there is no use getting upset and worked up over the idea of sending him an email. Type something up to him and worry after you sent it.” 

The woman pats Peter’s head, planting a small kiss on it before leaving the teen to return to his blank screen. After a moment the teen decided to just dive in and start typing. For a time he just put his words on the paper without editing. Once done he back tracked to edit the words into a more acceptable and coherent thought process. Satisfied, Peter sits back to read it one last time. 

_Dear Mr. Stark_  
_This is Peter Parker from the service dog support group. I hope I’m not bothering you but you said I could message you about questions I have. I was wondering if you have any advice on what kind of products I should get Karen. The company that gave me Karen told me about dog shoes for the winter but I’m wondering, based on your experience, what else I should get. I’ve seen some people write online about having a service dog care bag with them, since I’ll be in school all day I’m thinking I may need something like that. What do you think I should put in it? Since you sit in meetings a lot for work I was thinking you have some suggestions on how to keep Karen comfortable while I’m sitting a lot in school._  
_Thank you for your time,_  
_Peter Parker _

Peter sits back and with a quick breath, clicks send before he can stop himself. 

“Oh Karen, what have I done?” the teen whispers

The dog lays her head in his lap as a reply, Peter instinctually rubbing Karen’s.

He needs to keep going. Finish this before he chickens out.

The teen opens a second document to send, staring at the list of people on the paper from the meeting.

He wants to ask about jobs. Between Karen’s special diet that’s on top of Peter’s diet and medications. The teen doesn’t need to be a genius to know these will add up fast for a family like Peter and his aunt. 

But May won’t let him. 

Not yet.

But he does need to ask about dog parks. The one near the apartment is way to busy for him to handle. The last time May and him went with Karen, Peter lasted all of fifteen minutes before the stress of strangers talking to them and Karen being so far from his side was too much.

But which adult would know a good dog park a teen can reach via walking and subway?

Peter lets out a groan, he just wants to do this and then go do something else. He can feel the knot in his stomach becoming more painful. 

_Hello,  
This is Peter Parker from Saturday’s support group. I’m looking for any good dog park suggestions. The one near my apartment is just to crowded with people. I travel via the subway so if the park is reachable by foot and train that’d be nice. I live in Queens._

_Thanks_

Peter quickly added every email into the sending bar and hit send before he could mentally talk himself out of doing this.

Slamming his laptop close, Peter dives from the chair at the desk to his bed. Karen following him and sitting beside his bed diligently. 

“Was that you slamming your laptop because you give up or you finished,” May calls out with light voice telling the teen she’s probably smiling and knows the answers.

“Finished,” he called out.

“Going to wallow in there till someone responds or are you going to come watch TV with me?”

The teen slithers off the bed and heads to the living room. Watching TV as a distraction is definitely a better idea.

Peter plops down on the couch, Karen jumping up between her handler and May, nose rather close to the bowl of popcorn being passed between the humans. 

“Ready buddy?”

Peter smiles and nods.

The intro song of Big Bang begins to play, Peter knows his aunt picked this for him, its got enough science in the sitcom to please him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter woke to the sound of aunt May’s favorite 80s songs echoing from the kitchen-living space of the apartment. 

The teen stretches out, only to flop his limbs about until he curls around Karen, the dog being in her usual spot at the end of his bed. 

He had watched five episodes of Big Bang before calling it a night, going to bed without checking his email or phone in an attempt to avoid the inevitable conversations that will appear with time from the men he messaged. 

A soft knock on the door draws the teen’s attention from cuddling the black furry blob at the end of his bed.

“Peter time to get up,” his aunt calls to him through the door. 

With a sigh, Peter rolls off the bed and onto his feet.

“Come on Karen, breakfast.”

The magic word linked to food has the dog practically jumping from the bed to the door without her feet touching the floor. 

The pair emerge, Peter sets about to make Karen her breakfast of dog kibble and raw bits of food. 

Normally Peter could sleep in as long as he wants during summer vacation but ever since his situation in the spring the therapist and doctor all say May should help keep Peter on a sleep routine, only allow extra hours to make up for rough nights. 

Setting down the bowl for food for Karen, Peter puts her into sit. 

Karen launches into the food with a command and Peter plops at the table. His aunt has eggs and toast waiting for him with a glass of juice and water.

Several small pills sit beside the water.

He downs those quickly, the pills then followed by the eggs.

“So did any of those men respond to your message last night?” May prompts the teen as he moves onto the toast.

“I haven’t checked,” he mumbles between bites.

“Well go get your computer, I pay or wifi so lets see what they said.”

Peter would like to argue this but knows it’s a losing battle.

He retrieves his laptop, firing the reconstructed device to life.

Peter starts tapping his leg as he watches the device come to live, the tapping speeds up as he logs in, his legs twitching as he moves the mouse to the program.

“Peter.”

The teen pauses to find his aunt holding his and across the small table, Karen leaning heavily against his legs.

“Peter they’re just like you and they wouldn’t do anything rude to you. Relax, its just words on paper and I’m sure they’ll be saying nice things.”

Taking a deep breath, he looks back to the screen.

There are several emails waiting for him.

All responses to what he wrote. 

Peter clicks on the email about the dog parks, it has the most responses and he’s to nervous to click on Mr. Starks.

Hey Peter! Glad to hear from you 😊 Well I spend my time between my family home further upstate and an apartment here in New York. When I’m here I go to a dog park near my work apartment on the border of Brooklyn and Queens or I go to the park near Steve and Bucky’s place in Brooklyn.  
Clint

**Hi Peter,**  
**Just as Clint said, there is a park near my apartment that we like to meet and hang out at. I’ll link the location below.**  
**Bucky **  
**[link] **

_Good day Peter,_  
_I personally don’t go around Queens much so I can’t make to many suggestions for there. But like the others said above, we like to hit the place near Bucky and Steve’s place. Since I’m often in Manhattan for work, I’ll stop at Tony’s place. Stark Tower has a floor that’s just for the dogs to play and train so I often go there.  
Bruce_

Hello Peter,  
Currently I use Tony’s dog floor most often myself when letting Patriot get exercise. I’m sure if you ask, Tony will get you a card so you can have access to the floor. If that’s to far of a trip, then hit up the location in Brooklyn the others were talking about.  
Rhodey

**Hey kid, you can access to my dog floor. Next time we’re together in person I’ll get you set up. Also, Pepper is kicking me out of the lab today (Wednesday) why don’t we met up in person? How about we have lunch at the dog park in Brooklyn everyone suggested? I’ll show up at noon with some food and if you show up that would be cool.  
-Tony**

Great idea Stark! Noon at the Brooklyn park! I’ll bring a snack.  
-Clint 

_I’ll bring some healthy options  
-Bruce_

**We’ll come  
-Bucky**

Peter pauses and looks up at his aunt who waits with a smile.

“Well?”

“I asked about dog parks. They suggested one in Brooklyn and Mr. Stark’s Tower.”

“Oh well I guess Brooklyn works like today or on a weekend during the school year. We’ll have to keep our eyes open for closer places during the school year.”

“There’s more,” he murmurs.

“What else?”

“During the conversation they decided to pack lunch and meet at the Brooklyn park at noon. They invited me to come.”

His aunt leans closer, “do you want to?”

Peter shrugs, “kinda”

“Ok. Well let me make you a lunch. Or would you like money to stop and buy something?”

Peter shakes his head. The idea of going into a restaurant with an adult still makes him nervous.

“You can make me a sandwich or something.”

“Ok, well you go get a shower and dressed. Brush Karen too! I’ll pack you a lunch and stuff for Karen.”

“I should pack for Karen,” Peter sighs, “since it’s my job now”

“Then get a shower quickly. I’ll have to drop you off a little early at the park though. I have to work at one until six today buddy.”

“You don’t have to drop me off,” he mutters as he picks up his dishes.

“Do you want to take the subway both ways?”

The teen flinches as he drops the dirty items into the sink. 

He’s only tried the subway once since his whole ordeal began and that was before Karen. 

He and May made it three stops before he had to get off from the amount of people.

“No, I’ll be ok being early.”

“Why don’t I give you some money, this way you can get a ride—”

“No May!” Peter cuts in, “don’t spend extra money on me. I’ll just have to either suck it up and take the subway—”

“Or get a ride from one of the men at the park. I was about to give you some money for gas and see if one of them will give you a ride home.”

“Oh, oh ok. Yah.”

Peter had thought she was going to make him uber or lyft home, that would’ve been pricey. 

“Stop over thinking and get ready Peter,” she breaks his thoughts with a shooing motion.

Peter nods.

But pauses to look at the other email he sent.

**Kid I have a list of things you may find useful with Karen at school. If you come to the park today, I’ll give you the rundown. If I don’t see you then I’ll just email the list later.**  
**Also: what’s your favorite color?  
Tony **

Peter hits reply for some odd reason.

_I’m going to go to the park._  
_My favorite colors are red and blue  
Peter Parker _

“Peter! Shower!” His aunt reminds him again.

“I’m going, I’m going,” the teen chuckles and goes to ready himself and Karen for the trip.


	6. Dog Park

11:16  
Peter Parker sat on an average looking park bench in a nice suburb of eastern Brooklyn. The area is made of apartment buildings and small businesses with an occasional town house which all seem friendly enough in appearance. It’s a good spot, a tree keeping the sun off him and Karen yet close enough to the dog park sign to see who goes in and out. The teen pulls out a book from his backpack, opening it to pass the time. His aunt had dropped him off early due to work hours and traffic, he didn’t mind.

He really didn’t.

His anxiety wasn’t growing with each passing minute.

He isn’t nervous.

Now he just needed to keep repeating until his brain accepts these facts and his anxiety decreases.

Just keep repeating.

11:37  
Peter has seen a few people come and go from the dog park in front of him, but it was relatively empty for the time he’s been sitting and waiting.

11:48  
As each minute ticked closer to noon on his old watch, Peter found it harder to focus on the words in front of him. 

11:49  
Peter gives up. There is no point trying to read. Stuffing the book back into his bag, Peter sits hugging his backpack while watching the area for someone familiar.

“Karen,” Peter murmurs.

The dog moves from laying on Peter’s feet to sitting beside his knees. Peter bends forward, head in his backpack as his hand pets Karen repetitively. 

Peter refuses to look at his watch.

He will focus only on petting Karen.

Just deep, even breathing and petting Karen.

He just needs to focus on these things.

Not on the little voice in his head telling him the adults will be no-shows.

Not on the fact the voice was reminding him he couldn’t tell who is familiar and who isn’t since he hasn’t been around the adults long enough to recognize them from far away. 

Just keep petting Karen.

That’s all he needed to do.

“Peter?”

The teen gives a yelp from the sudden voice near his shoulder. Twisting around he finds the ponytail wearing James “Bucky” Barnes with another man behind him at a distance. The large blonde man smiles and waves towards Peter but doesn’t come closer.

“Mr. Barnes,” Peter twists and stands, “I didn’t hear you walk up.”

“That’s ok kid. And call me Bucky please, Mr. Barnes was my dad,” Mr. B—Bucky adjusted his leather jacket and nods towards the blonde behind him. “I brought someone.”

Bucky wears jeans and a leather jacket while this guy wears a basic red t-shirt and jeans, between them they come close to one fourth of a basic color palette. 

“Hi,” the blonde steps up with his hand extended, “my name is Steve Rogers, I’m with Bucky.”

Peter accepts the hand, “Peter Parker. This is Karen,” he points to his dog.

“Been waiting long Peter?” Steve asks while stepping around the bench and plops down on the empty end.

“Not to long,” Peter shrugs, “my aunt dropped me off earlier.”

The blonde pauses in removing items from his messenger bag, “how early?”

Peter glances towards Bucky, the man also watching Peter closely. 

“Early, why?”

Mr. Rogers points to the ground. Peter looks down to see the grass, nothing special, just grass.

“The grass is bent over enough from Karen’s body that I can tell you’ve been here for quite awhile,” Mr. Rogers responds.

Peter sighs, “fine. My aunt dropped me off a little after eleven before going to work.”

“Kid,” Bucky sighs, “you should’ve texted one of us from the group, we could’ve come sooner so you weren’t alone here.”

“I’m not a fragile baby that needs constant watching,” Peter mutters under his breath.

“No,” Mr. Rogers smiles, “but you are in an unfamiliar area alone and I doubt your aunt would like that.”

Shifting his feet, Peter mentally agrees with the man. His aunt left him only after he promised to message one of the adults to let them know he came early.

He didn’t follow through with that.

He didn’t want to be a burden. 

“Heck,” Mr. Rogers continues without noting Peter’s mood, “Bucky and I were just sitting and staring at the clock till it was time to come over,” Mr. Rogers laughs.

“No we weren’t punk,” Bucky sighs.

“Yes we were,” Mr. Rogers leans into Peter’s space, “don’t let Bucky fool you. He is excited for this play date more than Winter is.”

Peter glances over at the mentioned dog. Winter lays beside the bench half asleep, showing little to no interest in life around her. Peter’s lips twitch into a grin at the idea of the two buff guys sitting on a couch watching a clock while the dog does nothing more then sleep. 

“Are you staying too Mr. Rogers?” Peter asks, the guy seems nice to be around.

The man nods, “call me Steve. And yes, I usually hangout here on this bench while Bucky and the others go play with the dogs.”

“Why?” it seems odd to Peter that the man would just sit and watch at a distance.

“Well today is Bucky’s time to hang with his buddies—”

“Don’t let the punk fool you,” Bucky cuts the guy off as he smacks Steve’s shoulder. “He got into an argument with Tony over something stupid last time, now he’s moping until he knows they are friends again.” 

The blonde’s face begins to color pink in embarrassment faster then Peter’s face has ever done. 

“Hey it’s the Brooklyn love birds and our new baby member!”

Clint jogs up, holding a large paper bag with Hawk keeping pace beside him.

“Brought snacks again,” he shakes the bag.

“Escape the kids?” Steve inquires.

“They’re at some library summer program today and Laura is working on some stuff so I’m home free for the next couple hours.” Clint turns to Peter, “just get here kid?”

“He’s been here for almost an hour,” Bucky frowns, “and didn’t tell anyone.”

Peter glances away and shrugs, “gotta learn to be on my own and wait so it doesn’t matter.” 

“Hey guys!”

The group shifts their attention to the coming people. Bruce, Rhodes, and Mr. Stark walk towards them, each holding a bag of some kind. The three draw up to the bench, Rhodes glancing around curiously.

“Why are we all waiting up here?” The man asks while leaning on Patriot. 

“Just waiting for everyone to show,” Bucky replies and moves away from the group towards the dog park area, “lets go guys.” 

Peter follows the adults towards the park, Steve being good on his word and staying behind.

Until Mr. Stark notices.

“Rogers, if you’re concerned about last dog park day: don’t. Get down here and stop being like some old creepy guy watching us.” 

The blonde man sighs and rises, following the group at a distance.

“So Underoos,” Mr. Stark turns his attention to the teen as they get to the dog park gate, “how many dog parks have you been to?”

“Just the one by our apartment, and well, that didn’t go so great,” Peter mumbles. 

“Well lets make this visit a better memory then the last,” Rhodey smiles at the teen. 

Peter watches as the men go into the gated area, removing leashes one by one. Clint pulls a large orange ball from his bag and the dogs launch after it happily as the man launches it across the grassy area. Rhodey, Bruce, Steve and Bucky taking up seats on the bench inside the fence. Clint chases after the dogs, trying to get the ball back only to launch it off again. 

Peter just stands watching from the outside, hand clenching Karen’s leash tightly.

“Pete?”

The teen glances over at Mr. Stark, the older man watching the teen as he lets Friday loss into the area. 

“You going to let Karen play?”

Peter shifts from foot to foot.

What if Karen gets hurt playing? What if he needs Karen’s help and she’s off having fun? Does he remove the vest? Rhodey removed Patriot’s vest but the others didn’t. But Peter’s vest for Karen isn’t sleek and small like the others, his is the standard issued vest that isn’t as well fitted to Karen’s body. Will that be a problem for her to run in?

“Peter?”

Mr. Stark stands closer to Peter, eyes on the teen and using his body to block the park view, “talk to me kid. We can’t help you if you don’t talk.”

“Will,” Peter murmurs, “will it be ok?” 

“Will what be ok?” the man prompts.

“What if something happens and I need her? What if the vest is to lose for her and it catches on something? What if—”

“Ok I’m going to stop you there kid,” the man cuts him off, “you have me and the guys here to help you. We help each other when the dogs are running and we’ll help you too. You can leave the vest on, sure it isn’t like our vests but it won’t bother her at all. You ready to let her go?”

Peter takes a few steady breaths, “yeah, yeah.”

Peter unhooks Karen and walks her into the fenced in area, “Go run Karen,” Peter commands.

With a glance at her handler, she takes off towards the group of dogs chasing down Clint with his ball. 

Mr. Stark guides Peter to the second Bench where there is space open beside Bruce, who leans over the gap between benches to talk to Rhodey. Bucky watches Steve quietly as the blonde sketches in a large pad. 

“So kid,” Mr. Stark catches Peter’s attention from vacantly staring into the distance, “you asked about things you might need for Karen at school.” 

“Oh ah yeah,” Peter nods, rummaging into his backpack. He pulls out a notebook and pen, readying to take some notes, “ok, ready sir.”

“First off, don’t call me sir kid,” Mr. Stark sighs.

“Oh sorry, sorry,” Peter ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Nothing wrong with you kid. Just someone in my past made me call them sir during not so good times so it has a bad connotation.”

Peter nods, writing in tiny letters in the corner of the page ‘not sir’. 

“Now things you’ll need for Karen is a water dish, maybe some treats for occasional reinforcement of good behavior in the school—”

“What kind of behavior?” Peter cuts him off.

“Well since this is her first run in the school setting then probably give her a treat when she manages to ignore the whole class and follows her command to stay laying at your feet despite everyone’s attempts to distract her.”

Peter nods, “I can do that.”

“Also pack a brush and some cleaning wipes in case something gets on her at school. Don’t forget bags and gloves for bathroom runs. She’s a big dog but she’ll probably need a bathroom break at school, so have stuff for that.”

“You think I should have a backpack for myself and one for her?”

Mr. Stark just laughs and reaches into his bag he brought, “actually kid a small bag like this should work.”

He pulls out a red and blue shoulder bag, just a bit bigger than a fannypack but smaller than any sort of backpack or purse Peter’s ever seen. A blue folding water dish hanging from the side strap on the bag. 

“Oh ok,” Peter begins drawing out what he sees.

He stops when the bag flops onto the notebook.

“W-what?”

“Its for you kid, oh and so is this,” Mr. Stark pulls out a small sleeker red vest with ‘service dog’ on it along with several smaller patches. One patch saying ‘access required by law’, another saying ‘please don’t pet’, and another smaller one saying ‘I’m working, please don’t distract’. Peter takes the vest and eyes it closely. The front strap has the comfort fit and cooling tech, rubber covers so the Velcro, clips, and straps don’t cut into Karen. It’s a nice vest. He finds a ‘Stark Industries’ logo sewn into the vest as well. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers, touching the items gently, “this-this is-I just—what—"

“Wanted you to have some nicer stuff.” Mr. Stark speaks up as Peter eyes the items, “don’t worry about paying me, think of it as a ‘welcome to the club’ gift. That and I want you going to school in style.”

“But—”

“No buts Parker, that’s your gear now. Although if something is the wrong size or wrong color let me know and I’ll fix it.”

“But—”

“No buts Parker!” Mr. Stark sighs, “call Karen and see how it looks on her.”

Peter chews his lip for a moment, glancing over he sees all the other adults have stopped talking and are watching him.

“Don’t worry kid,” Rhodey smiles, “Tony is like this. He upgraded all our gear for the dogs when we all first met. Its kinda his thing.”

“And he keeps upgrading every time Stark Industries makes something better or he needs to test out why a rival company has something better than him.”

“So,” Peter glances between them all, “Mr. Stark likes to give us stuff in exchange we tell him what we think about them? Like guinea pigs?”

“Oh come on,” Mr. Stark moans, “that’s not true. I only ask you all once in a while for reviews on gear.”

“Hey Peter!”

Peter looks up to see Clint jog towards the group, “Catch!”

Peter quickly jumps up, all his possessions tumbling to the grass as he attempts to catch the orange ball arching towards his head. For not being very athletic, Peter manages to catch the ball with only a slight fumble. His joy at catching the ball is short lived as the bounding and barking dogs swarm the bench area, nudging into Peter.

“Oh crap,” Peter cries out as he sees the dogs bump into his possessions on the ground. But reaching them was difficult as the dogs kept bouncing around trying to get the ball.

“I’ve got it kid,” Mr. Stark laughs as he picks up all the fallen items, “go play with Clint and the dogs for a bit.”

Peter nods and dodges the dogs as he worms his way free from the group of furry helpers.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter calls back to the man.

Mr. Stark stops piling Peter’s possessions on the bench to eye the teen, “yes Peter?”

“What if I play with the dogs to much and they are to tired to do their jobs?”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark sighs with a smile, “we’ll call it all to a stop before that happens. Now go play kid!”

Peter nods and trots away from the dogs quickly, the furry creatures chasing him down.

Peter launches the ball in the direction of Clint, it actually drops near the man which is one of the better throws Peter’s done. The dogs and Clint race to get the ball.

The two humans toss the ball back and forth, trying to wrestle the ball away from a dog every so often. 

Peter can’t help the smile and laugh that comes from his mouth as he watches and plays. 

He’s having fun.

After several minutes, Peter feels himself lagging. He decides to do one last strong throw before taking a break. Putting all the strength he has into his throw, the orange ball arches towards Clint near a small tree.

Only for the ball to overshoot and fly into the leaves of the tree.

“Oh crap,” Peter jogs as fast as his tired legs can take him to the tree. Clint and the dogs stare up into the foliage at the base of it.

“I’m sorry Clint, I didn’t mean to do that,” Peter gasps as he reaches the group.

“Its ok kid,” Clint shrugs, “I’ll go see if I can find a branch or something. If not, well no big deal since I have like ten balls like that at home. Got them cheap in bulk.”

The man turns and walks away, shouting to the other adults to help him find a branch or something to poke the ball down. A few dogs go with him, but Karen stands dutifully by her handler.

Peter finally spies the orange orb. Jammed between two lower branches that cross each other, it isn’t to far from the ground. Looking around, Peter begins to search for a branch, but stops at an idea.

The dog park fence sits behind the tree and a low swooping branch hangs above it.

Peter isn’t very athletic, but he does have one special skill: he is a good climber. His aunt can vouch for his ability to climb up odd items and end up in odd places.

Taking his shoes and socks off, Peter climbs the fence easily, Karen hoovering below him along with Friday and Hulk. 

Shifting his body, Peter bends and leaps toward the branch. 

His hands catch.

Flicking his legs back and forth, he gains momentum and braces them against the tree trunk. Using the pressure of his hands pushing on the branch and legs pushing on the trunk, he lifts his body slowly upward. 

Upward.

Higher.

He gets close enough to wrap one leg around the branch. 

Tugging and flipping, Peter manages to mount the branch, straddling it once he gets his balance. 

Flipping around, he moves towards the tree trunk, gripping it and pulling into a kneeling position. He reaches out his foot to the neighboring branch, shifting onto that one and bringing himself closer to the ball. The ball sits on top of the branch parallel to the one he jumped up on. A second branch, fallen from damage and barely part of the tree, sits at an angle on top of the branch and pinches the ball in place. 

“Peter?!”

Someone has called him.

Looking down he sees Rhodey walking towards the tree with Patriot back in his harness. The man looks around frowning, the teen realizing the man doesn’t see him. 

“Don’t worry Mr. Rhodey! I’ve got the ball!” He calls from his perch.

Rhodey looks around swiftly until his eyes meet Peter’s in the tree. The teen sliding down the branch to where the ball is stuck, hanging onto the sideways branch keeping it hostage.

“Holy! Peter?! How’d did you get up there?! Tony!!”

The man rushes forward towards Peter, the teen just smiles and waves as he continues wiggling towards the ball.

Peter sees his target. Reaching out he grabs the ball with one hand, his other hanging onto the branch still.

Wiggling the ball carefully, Peter begins to remove it.

“Peter! Be careful!”

“Oh my—his aunt is going to kill us.”

Peter can hear the adults all talking nearby now, but he focuses on wiggling the ball without losing his balance. 

“I—I’ve got it!”

Peter yanks the ball up.

And proceeds to lose his balance.

Tipping sideways, Peter feels the world slow as his body falls to the left. 

He tries to grab onto a branch, only twigs and tiny wannabe branches fill his hand, unable to hold his weight as they all pull free. 

Peter falls back first.

He hears shouting.

He hears calling.

But all he sees is the sun dancing between the green leaves.

_:What a really pretty thing to see before falling eight feet out of a tree:_ Peter thinks.

Its all over in an instant.

His body slams against the hard ground, muscles clenching tightly from the impact.

Peter hears more yelling.

But all he really notices is he can’t breathe.

Like a weight on his chest.

He can’t breathe.

_‘Don’t fight me Einstein, I’m heavier than you,’_

The voice fills his head as the weight doesn’t leave his body.

_ I'm not there, I'm not there, I'm not there _

Black spots float in his vision.

He tries to breathe again.

His breath catches a little. 

The voice vanishes and his ears hear barking, loud barking near him.

Suddenly his muscles loosen.

He takes a gasping breath in. 

The black spots begin to fade.

Another breath.

He feels something warm and fluffy rubbing against his head, neck, and shoulders.

Another breath.

“Peter?! I need you to talk to me or give me a sign or we’re calling for help.”

Peter focuses in on the voice, Bruce Banner hovering in his view now.

“Don’t,” Peter’s voice comes free, “don’t call….not my aunt….i’m ok….don’t call…breathe knocked out….i’m ok” 

Bruce nods, “ok, ok. Let’s try and sit you up.”

Peter nods in the dirt, doing so makes him realize its Karen in one of her active alert positions, body wrapped around his head while her legs and rear press into his shoulders. 

“Karen, release,” Peter gasps.

The dog moves and Peter slowly gets into a sitting position. 

Peter can see Mr. Stark hoovering behind Bruce along with Clint while the other stand a little further back holding the dogs at bay.

“Should we take him to the ER? Clinic? Bruce do I need to get someone to bring a first aid kid?” Tony wrings his hands while watching the teen sit in the grass.

“I think we’re good Tony,” Bruce smiles and pats Peter’s shoulder, “right Peter?”

“Just got the air knocked out of me. Sorry,” Peter sighs, “I don’t usually lose my balance so easily.”

Mr. Stark snorts, “lose balance? The kid who was just huffing and puffing while playing ball talks like he climbs trees regularly.”

“Well climbing is the only athletic thing I’m good at,” Peter murmurs under his breath. 

“Ok, ok,” Clint steps up, “let’s not start anything anyone.” He glances at Peter, “how about we keep the climbing to a minimum for now.”

“For now?” Mr. Stark snaps.

“For now,” Clint frowns at the man, “and if Peter is ok then let’s move on. I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m hungry and I know we all have snacks and lunch items, so let’s go set up a picnic spot.” 

“You have kids Clint,” Mr. Stark almost sounds like he’s whining to Peter’s ears, “and you’re saying let’s move on?”

“Yes Tony,” Clint raises and eyebrow, “let’s move onto lunch.”

For a second the men stare at each other until Mr. Stark sighs and runs his hands through his hair in defeat.

“Fine,” he turns to Peter, “but you’re staying where I can see you from now on Underoos.” 

Peter nods and moves to stand up.

Only for a hand to grasp his elbow and steady him as he rises.

Peter tries not to flinch.

But he does.

“Sorry,” Bruce pulls back his hand, “should’ve warned you.”

Peter shrugs and then rolls his shoulders, “its ok.”

“Ok everyone,” Clint claps his hands, “I saw the best spot on the way in for our picnic. Now leash up, grab your stuff, and follow me.”

Peter’s glad Clint is helping move everyone onward. 

He doesn’t want to listen to anyone make a big deal over this.

He’s had worse.

Following the group, Mr. Stark steps up beside Peter and true to his word doesn’t step further then two paces from the teen as they gather their stuff and leash up the dogs, following Clint out of the dog area. 

Peter can’t help but wince at a realization as the dog park gate closes behind him.

His second dog park outing and he messed this one up too. 

Following the group towards this ‘magic spot’ Clint saw, Peter hopes he won’t make a mess of their lunch.


	7. picnics, ice cream, oh my

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay...writers block and holidays happened

Peter was not fond of specialized diets. 

Life is full of enough struggles as it is, adding a specialized diet just makes even the simplest tasks harder. Every time he gets diagnosed with something new, his family changes his diet in attempt to help.

First it was the asthma and the removal of foods that could lead to triggers.

Then came the glasses and an increase of vitamin rich foods in hopes of preventing further lose.

Followed by allergies to outdoor plant life and his aunt’s desire to try more farmer’s market foods to help build his immunity.

Of course, then came all the issues he needs Karen for and with her came a new diet.

Peter stares down at his lunch box, the dividers set up between specifically portioned amounts of food. It looked like an exceptionally healthy lunch a parent would make their kid, but in comparison to the last few years of lunches it was an adjustment. His aunt had finally loosened up on his food in middle school allowing him to enjoy lunchables or PB&J with chips or a bag of carrots with cheese sticks and sandwich.

But not anymore.

His aunt had been searching online for things that could help Peter and she learned a balanced diet with an emphasis on ‘feel good’ foods is suggested to try. 

She didn’t just try.

She took it and ran with the suggestion.

She now takes classes to cook better for Peter, spends time picking out fresh fruits and vegetables at the stores, fills the cupboards with a few more healthier snack options.

It wasn’t totally bad.

It was just a change he isn’t used to. 

“You ok kid?”

Peter’s head snaps up in surprise. He’d forgotten for a moment he is sitting on a blanket surrounded by other adults.

“Yeah,” he nods at Mr. Stark, “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Clint leans towards the teen over his slices of cold pizza, “cuz you were looking at your food like it offended you or something.”

“No,” Peter sighs, “I’m just not used to the food still.”

“What do you mean?” Clint asks.

Bruce leans over and eyes the box, “looks like a healthy, well-balanced meal.” 

“Yeah that’s the thing,” Peter sighs and begins eating the pecans, “I’m not used to having lunches like this still. I mean,” he quickly rushes, “my aunt feeds me fine, but lunch was always a sandwich and random snacks affair. But now she’s doing this whole ‘specialized diet’ thing that the internet says can be beneficial for me.” 

Bruce nods slowly, “I see. That can be offsetting a little if you eat a certain way for years. But these foods are pretty good for you so I’m not going to disagree with you aunt.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Peter begins to munch on the kale chips, “I’m just not used to it still.” 

Several of the adults chuckle.

“Be glad its just adding healthier options into your diet and not cutting stuff out,” Mr. Stark sighs. “When my heart got worse I had to cut dozens of things out of my diet that I loved.”

“Things that were actually bad for you,” Rhodey mutters.

“Beside the point,” Mr. Stark dismisses the man’s comment.

“I can’t have lactose,” Clint adds.

Peter eyes the man’s pizza, “but you have cheese on your pizza.”

“Supplemental milk product cheese,” Clint sighs, “my wife and Natasha are very good motivators to not give in to my desires.”

Just about every adult shudders and nods at this statement. 

Peter realizes he’s the only one out of the loop.

“Who’s Natasha?” Peter asks, hoping to be let in on this inner circle moment.

There was a collective shiver among the men for a moment.

“Well, she’s was my work partner for a long time. When I retired due to my injury,” Clint pointed to his ear, “she switched jobs.”

“And,” Rhodey jumps in, “through her new job she met a few of us and when she comes around with Clint to these group events is how the rest of us met her.” 

“You guys act like she’s scary,” the teen whispers.

“Well she kinda is,” Mr. Stark mutters into his drink.

“Tony,” Bruce sighs. Turning to Peter he shakes his head, “don’t listen to Tony, Natasha is very nice to those she likes. Especially kids and teens, those are her favorites.”

Peter munches on his veggie straws with a small nod.

He isn’t sure meeting Natasha is on his list of things he wants to do in the near future.

Peter listens as the men begin talking about work things.

About their weekend plans.

About people he’s never heard of.

And he realizes that he’s lost. He might be sitting here on the ground surrounded with people and service dogs, but he can’t participate or even follow the conversations around him. Munching on his granola bits, Peter begins to fade off into his own thoughts. He wonders if he should wait for his aunt or try the subway. He really needs to get around to trying the subway before school starts. His mind shifts to what dinner might be once he does figure out how he’s getting home.

“Peter!”

Peter jumps slightly, startled from his thoughts.

Glance around him, he finds all the adults staring at him quietly. 

“Ah did I miss something?” 

Bruce clears his throat, “a few of us have to head off here in a little bit for work—”

“Gotta get my minions,” Clint cuts in.

“So,” Bruce continues, “I was asking how you were getting home.” 

“Oh, ah,” Peter glances around nervously, “well I was going to, well you know…do an errand. Yeah do an errand. Then take the subway home.”

“You sure kid? I could give you a life,” Mr. Stark speaks up.

‘No don’t worry about it Mr. Stark. You and the others are heading back into Manhattan, no reason to double back on my account,” Peter offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. 

Bruce finishes packing up his lunch items, “are you sure Peter?”

The teen nods vigorously, hoping he isn’t giving off any indicators that he really isn’t sure. 

“Oh well alright,” Mr. Stark sighs, “but next time I’m giving you a ride.”

The other men all nodded in agreement with him. 

“Ah, well, sure,” Peter shrugs. 

With that the men all gathered their things, talking more about their schedules. 

Peter packs up.

Just a little more slowly.

His hope is everyone else will head off and not be around to watch him freak out over the subway situation or spend hours waiting for his aunt. 

“Ok well I’m off,” Clint is first to finish, “gotta grab the kids before they create some weapon of mass destruction before I show up.” 

With a wave and reminder to see everyone at the meeting on Saturday, the man jogs off with his fluffy partner.

“Want to grab dinner later after my meetings are done?” Mr. Stark inquires to Bruce as they head away from the group.

“I’ll see you this weekend Peter,” Mr. Rhodey acquires Peter’s attention, “feel free to reach out if you need someone to talk to before that. Ok?”

The teen nods. 

With a smile and a clap on the shoulder, Mr. Rhodey walks off after the other two men who still talk science and work. 

“So.”

Peter glances away from the disappearing figures to see both Bucky and Steve watching him closely.

“So what?” Peter inquires.

“So wanna spill the truth kid?” Bucky sighs.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Peter shifts his feet and pets Karen’s head.

“We both know you were dropped off early because your aunt was at work,” Steve replies, “which means your aunt can’t give you a ride for several more hours.”

“Plus you definitely didn’t seem very sure about taking the subway when you mentioned it earlier,” Bucky adds. “So spill kid.”

Peter sighs and glances away from the pair, unable to meet their gazes. 

“Well I wasn’t lying, I’m going to try and take the subway home.”

“Wait,” Bucky frowns, “you said ‘try’. Start talking kiddo.”

Peter groans and kicks the grass a bit. 

“So yeah, I haven’t taken the subway in a long time and the last time I did, well the ride didn’t go so good.”

“Well do you want to ride the subway?” Steve inquires.

“Well yes,” Peter shrugs, “I mean I gotta go back to riding the subway since that’s how I’ll get to school.”

“Ok,” Steve nods and Peter watches the two men share a quick look.

“We can take the subway with you,” Steve finally says.

“Hey wait,” Peter frowns, “there is no point for you two to take the subway to my place, I mean you live here!” 

Bucky just snorts while Steve chuckles.

“Son,” Steve sighs, “we have the day off. We have nothing planned for the day, so its no big deal going home with you.”

“Besides,” Bucky cuts in, “I think some company on the subway would be good, since this is the first time you’ll be doing so with Karen.”

“And there’s that Italian place in Queens we haven’t visited in a long time,” Steve adds.

Glancing at both men, Peter can see the determination in their gazes.

There’s no way Peter’s going to talk them out of this.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you two out of this am I?” the teen verbalizes.

Both men smile and shake their heads.

“Fine,” Peter sighs. 

“Do you have to run errands, or was that an excuse?” Steve probes.

The teen sighs again and shrugs, “it was an excuse,” he relents. 

“Thought so,” Steve sighs.

“Well would you like to go right to the subway or,” Bucky glances from Peter to Steve, “head to this nice ice cream place nearby?”

Peter’s mouth began to fill with saliva at the word ice cream. His healthy lunch was nice but he could eat more.

And ice cream sounds good. 

The teen nods.

“Ice cream it is,” Steve declares with a grin.

And that’s how Peter Parker found himself sitting in a vintage ice cream parlor with two very buff men squished into a bench seat across from him fighting over who gets the cherry on the large sundae they decided to share. 

“I’m serious Bucky, you go the cherry last time,” Steve frowns.

“No I didn’t punk,” Bucky hisses while trying to grab at the cherry.

“Yes you did. I get it this time.”

“Pass it over Stevie, I’m warning you,” Bucky waves his spoon at the man. 

“And I’m warning you Buck, its mine,” Steve pulls the food further away.

Peter continues to eat his chocolate and vanilla cone watching the scene unfold.

“Ah guys,” Peter finally speaks up as Steve pulls the food closer to the table edge, “why didn’t you just order two cherries?”

“Well someone,” Bucky frowns at Steve, “forgot.”

“So why don’t you just go up to the girl serving and ask for a second?” Peter tries to mediate again. 

“That involves getting up,” Bucky snaps.

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes with a smirk.

“You know what, I can solve this problem,” Steve finally sighs. 

The man uses his spoon to lift the only cherry from the Sunday and places it onto Peter’s cone.

“There problem solved,” Steve remarks as he shoves a spoonful of the sundae in his mouth.

“Punk,” Bucky whispers as he begins to dig into the cold treat. 

Peter glances down at the two dogs at the end of the booth. Winter slept on as her handler had his tizzy, but Karen just watched on, as if judging the two adult humans. 

Peter can’t help but smirk more.

“So,” Steve swallows and catches Peter’s attention, “when do you back to school?”

“Oh,” Peter clears his throat, “Wednesday next week.” 

“I see. Bucky didn’t tell me, but what school do you go to?”

“Midtown Science and Technology,” the teen responds between ice cream bites.

“Oh that’s a smart kids school, your rival here in Brooklyn is Brooklyn Visions Academy right?”

Peter nods at Steve, his primary focus is to get to the bottom of his cone since the harden chocolate is down there.

“Are you excited to see your friends again?” Steve prompts the conversation again.

Peter’s response is a shrug. But then he decides to clarify himself. “Well my friend Ned came around a bit at the beginning. But his family went away for the summer so we just talk online mostly, so school will be the first time he sees Karen and….well….yeah”

Peter fills his mouth with more ice cream.

“What about your other friends?” Steve continues

“Steve,” Bucky whispers.

“Ned’s my only friend,” Peter cuts in, eyes focusing on the tabletop while he eats.

“Oh,” Steve responds, “well better one good friend then several crappy ones. Right Bucky?”

“Dude I stopped being your best friend when we started going out,” Bucky snorts, “I’d put Sam as your best friend now punk.”

The two adults chuckle for a moment.

But Peter’s mind was on his friend Ned.

And Karen.

“Do you think,” Peter starts to ask but stops.

“Do I think what son?” Steve leans in.

“Do you think Ned will still be my friend?” Peter asks quietly as he gnaws on what’s left of his cone. “I haven’t told him about Karen. Or how bad things were. Will he still want to be my friend?” 

“Here’s the thing about true friends,” Bucky points his spoon at the teen, “sure they may get upset about secrets being kept but true friends eventually forgive you and accept you.” 

“And we speak from experience,” Steve catches the teen’s attention. “I kept my secret about my sexuality from Bucky for years.”

“And your crush on me,” Bucky adds.

“Well I thought you were straight!” 

“But I wasn’t punk.”

“See here’s a life lesson son,” Steve gestures, “communication is always better than making assumptions.”

“I also kept Steve in the dark about my arm,” Bucky gestures to the empty sleeve. “I was afraid what he’d say when I came back. I was also afraid it made me less of…well…me without it.”

“But once we talked about it,” Steve reaches over and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder, “our relationship didn’t change.”

“Well it did,” Bucky smiled slyly, “cuz our conversation about my arm caused you to spill the beans about your sexuality and crush.”

“yes which led to us dating,” Steve finishes.

“And this is where I say TMI guys,” Peter giggles. 

“What we are getting at brat,” Bucky points his spoon again, “is that you should tell Ned what you’re comfortable telling him and if he’s really a good friend he’ll accept you for you.”

“And hopefully not ask me out,” Peter adds mischievously, “I like Ned but not like that.” 

“Oh you are a sassy one when you get comfortable,” Bucky retorts. 

“Have you thought of asking Ned over before going back to school? Have him meet up with you so you can explain a few things in a quiet and slightly more controlled environment.”

Peter stops cleaning his fingers and eyes Steve.

The man had a good point.

“Unless he’s still traveling,” Steve adds.

“No, ah, Ned just arrived back here this morning.”

“Oh well what if you meet up with Ned on Friday?”

“Why Friday,” Bucky inquires to his blonde partner.

“Well if Peter meets with Ned on Friday, if anything comes up that bothers Peter then he can talk to us at the meeting on Saturday.”

“Oh smart,” Bucky agrees. 

For a moment Peter just watches the pair finish off their ice cream.

Perhaps that’s a better idea.

He was just going to walk up to Ned and say…well….something.

Which probably is a bad idea.

“I’ll have to message him later,” Peter murmurs with agreement.

“Great!” Bucky drops his spoon into the empty dish, “now do we want to go anywhere else or are we ready to try the subway?”

“Better just get it over with,” Peter can only wince at the idea.

Both men nod. 

Steve stands and goes to pay the bill after pushing Peter’s offered money back. 

As they exit the building Peter can only grip Karen’s leash tighter as the group turns the direction of the nearest subway station.

He didn’t want to ride the subway. 

But he had to. 

He had to do this for the sake of getting to school without troubling his aunt more.

Subway vs Peter Parker

It is time.


	8. subway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what...two chapters this week...i must really be procrastinating at being a responsible adult

Peter stares at the green metal fence surrounding the hole in the sidewalk leading to Brooklyn’s subway system. He isn’t sure how long he’s been standing and staring, but its enough time that both Steve and Bucky have begun to look at their phones for entertainment. Peter is fine with that, he just needs this moment to gather his thoughts.

Or rather gather his emotions.

Or nerves?

Yeah nerves.

Karen sits at his side, pressing herself into Peter’s leg waiting for her handler to do something. 

“Peter, you don’t have to take the subway if you don’t want to.”

Peter glances over at Steve and shakes his head, “no I gotta do this.”

“You don’t ‘gotta do’ anything kid,” Bucky puts his phone away and moves to Peter’s side.

“Yes I do,” Peter frowns, “I need to get on with this because my aunt can’t afford to drive me to school everyday. She’s taken enough time from work that its amazing she even has a job still. No I need to do this, I can’t be more of a burden to her.”

“Peter Parker,” Steve firmly gets Peter’s attention. “You’re not a burden. You’ve had a small bump in the road of life but that doesn’t mean you’re a burden. I don’t know your aunt but what I’ve heard you say about her I know she loves you and caring for you is important to her. You are not a burden to her, you’re family.”

“Kid,” Bucky squeezes Peter’s shoulder, “I know how you feel. When I came home I thought I was a burden to Steve. Short an arm with enough PTSD to need more then one therapist to help, in my mind I was to broken to be useful. A burden. But don’t do what I did kid. I kept everything in, didn’t talk about things, tried to do stuff myself, and in the end I hurt Steve. Don’t do that kid, don’t be like me.” 

Peter just blinks at the men, lost as to what he should do.

“What should I do?” he whispers his thoughts.

“Start by letting people help you. You’re not a burden and helping you is something they do out of love and not obligation,” Steve smiles. 

“And we can help you,” Bucky moves closer, Peter sees now the adults are blocking his view of the world. “We can start by you telling us what’s going on in your head, we can’t help if we don’t know what’s in there that has you standing in front of the subway entrance for forty-five minutes.”

For a moment Peter stands toying with the hem of his shirt. 

What they say is obviously right.

But that doesn’t make the little voice in his head saying he’s a burden stop completely.

It does get quieter.

Bucky seems to understand.

And he really needs to get used to riding the subway.

Peter decides to let a few thoughts be brought to life with words.

“Well. I’m…well….worried…nervous,” the teen shrugs.

“About what,” Steve probes.

“The last time I was on the subway, it just was to much.”

“Which part was to much?” Steve continues as Bucky just stands shooting dark looks at anyone who looks at the group to much. “Was it going down there? Going through the turnstile? Waiting for the subway? Getting on?”

“Being on it,” Peter sighs, “My aunt and I go through every part fine. just once I was seated and more people kept getting on,” he shrugs.

“Was it because there were to many people?”

Peter chews on his bottom lip for a moment in hesitation.

He decides to continue.

“I don’t like being around all those strangers. You don’t know what they’re thinking. What they want to do. What they could do to you. Any one of them could be someone ready to snap and harm someone standing near them,” Peter whispers.

“I hear you kid,” Bucky nods, “my PTSD was so bad it was hard for me to allow people to get close physically and emotionally. But Peter you have Karen. You can use Karen to help you with space management.”

“How?” 

Bucky smiles, “can we go down to the subway together and I’ll walk you through how I deal with subway population?”

Peter takes a moment before he gathers his nerves and nods at the men.

“Great,” Bucky smiled.

The man commands his dog to his side, Winter moving from sleeping on the sidewalk beside Steve to alert and ready to work beside Bucky. 

“Ok so step on: the stairs,” Bucky leads them to the stairwell into the ground. “I find it best to stick to one side. Usually the right side. I go down against the wall with Winter on my left between me and other people.”

Bucky moves from Peter’s side, walking down a few steps to demonstrate. 

“Give it a try,” Steve whispers to Peter, nudging the teen to the stairs.

Mimicking Bucky, Peter switches Karen to his left side, moving along the right side of the stairwell wall as it grows taller than Peter the further down they go. Bucky leads with Winter while Steve walks behind Peter, both trying to look nonchalant but coming off as bodyguards still in Peter’s opinion. 

Peter occasionally glances over Bucky’s shoulder, curious about oncoming people. Most were focused on their phones in their hands, but an occasional or two would glance at the trio but not stopping their walk. 

It wasn’t until they were nearly to the bottom of the steps that Peter paused on the steps for a moment. 

A group of young people were walking in a large grouping taking up most the stairwell, a group heading straight at Bucky and showing no intention of moving aside. 

“Bucky,” Peter whispers as he pulls Karen even closer to his body, the dog pressing hard into Peter’s leg.

“Excuse me,” Bucky speaks with a deep voice that startles the young people.

The group mumbles but a few members step aside for Bucky to continue walking to the landing.

Reaching the landing with Steve and Karen, Peter steps aside to tuck closer to the wall.

“You ok Peter?” Steve prompts.

Peter nods, shrugs, then nods again. 

“Ok kid,” Bucky moves to block Peter’s sight from the rest of the world going up and down the stairs beside them. “tell us what’s in your head.”

“Its nothing,” the teen murmurs, “let’s just keep walking.”

“Nope,” Bucky shakes his head, “we have all the time in world and remember what we said about letting us help.”

The teen sighs, “telling people to move. I mean you just said excuse me, but they moved so easily. I’m small and my voice isn’t like yours,” he sighs again.

“Peter,” Steve murmurs, “most people will move if you ask. Plus you have Karen so they’ll have to move some if they don’t want to be uncomfortable.”

“You’ll start getting used to excusing to pass people once you’ve done this more often. Bucky used to whisper ‘excuse me’ for half a year before he got used to being more assertive.”

“I’ve been with Winter for a couple years now, so I’ve had lots more practice then you. Don’t compare yourself to me since you haven’t had as much practice,” Bucky ruffles Peter’s hair. 

The teen nods solemnly, “ok. Well can go onward I guess.”

The two men nod, Bucky leading the way down the tunnels to the check point. 

“Now,” Bucky pauses at the turnstiles, “going through is kinda tricky.”

“In fact Bucky and Winter got stuck just the other day,” Steve adds.

“Gee thanks Steve,” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Just pointing out that this is something you’re still working on,” the blonde shrugs.

“Anyways,” Bucky continues, “the objective is for the dog to pass under the bars first, then you follow while it turns. The point is not to get the leash caught on the bars.”

Bucky goes first, nudging Winter forward. She passes under the bars while Bucky presses his pass to the reader, following through the bars.

“Ok, now your turn,” Steve leads Peter to the offending object.

“Go Karen,” Peter commands quietly.

The dog glances from her owner to the bars, stepping forward slowly, she pass under the bars.

Steve pushes Peter into the turnstile just as half of Karen’s body has passed through, the teen scrambling to swipe his pass, as he stumbles through the bars. 

He regains his footing and finds himself and Karen standing perfectly fine before Bucky.

“Good job,” Steve claps Peter’s shoulder as he steps up beside them. 

“Now onto the next part,” Bucky leads the pair onward. 

The group moves down the halls easily and reach the platform to take the train towards Queens. The area is large enough that as they walk, no one seems to get to close. 

“Now,” Bucky chooses a less crowded spot at the end of the platform to stand, “when we get on there is a chance it won’t be too crowded since it’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week.”

“So a good time to practice,” Steve adds.

“When you get onto the train, just get on like any other normal person. Don’t over think this. Watch for large gaps because of Karen’s feet but most stations don’t have that issue.” Bucky continues.

Oddly enough the group arrived just in time for the signal echoes in the open platform area of the in coming train. Peter never gets this lucky.

The train comes to a stop, Peter watching the windows of the cars to see how many people are onboard.

As the car in front of the group stops and opens its doors, Peter can see only a few people sitting in the car to his luck.

“Man we are never this lucky,” Steve grins as they enter the car.

The trio move to a small set of open seats where Steve stands to the side while Bucky motions for Peter to sit beside him.

“Ok, so when there is space to sit its best to put the dog in front of your legs or between your legs.”

Bucky snaps his fingers and Winter sits at his feet, her back to his shins.

“Pose one,” Bucky indicates. “Winter stand.”

The dog stands and Bucky opens his legs some before double snapping. Winter sits between his legs, still staring out at the world. 

“Pose two, which one do you want to try?”

“I think,” Peter looks at Karen, “Pose two. That way she is guarding but yet close enough that I can maybe stop people from touching her.”

“Do you have a command for that?” Steve asks.

Peter nods and opens his legs some, “Middle Karen.”

The dog moves from sitting off to the side to between Peter’s legs.

“Do you have an alerting command? One that keeps her at the ready?” Bucky inquires.

Peter nods and gives the command to Karen.

The dog sits straighter and watches the world around her with keen eyes while leaning into Peter’s left leg.

“Ok good, now lets just enjoy the ride.” Bucky looks up at Steve, “stop with the protective hoovering punk and sit down.”

With a laugh Steve plops down on the other side of Peter. 

The three slip into a quiet lull as the train stops and goes at each stop. 

The first couple stops didn’t bother Peter but five stops in the teen noticed the seats in the car fill up. The young couple and older lady sitting across from the teen eye the three when they each sit down. None of them do more then look before going to their phones. But the looks were enough for Peter to squeeze his legs closer together and press on Karen’s body for support. 

At the next stop people began standing along the handles. 

Peter felt his stomach twist tightly as each handle gets a person, each space begins to fill closer and closer to their sitting position. He doesn’t want anyone to stand in front of him, that’s for sure. He begins to shake his legs because of the feeling in his stomach. 

“So Peter,” Steve leans in some, touching Peter’s moving leg, “tell me about how you and your friend Ned met.”

With that Peter launches into a conversation about one of his favorite topics. 

Which lead to another topic.

Then another topic.

And another. 

As the group transfers trains and Peter is telling a long rendition about Ned discovering he’s lactose intolerant, the teen realizes he is feeling more relaxed. The men encouraging Peter to talk about topics he enjoys too keep him calm. Something Peter brings up as they use the train through Queens.

“Well if you’re with someone it helps to talk to them about anything to keep your mind from overthinking,” Bucky answers. “Plus if you look like your busy with your own business people are less likely to jump in and attempt to address you or Karen.”

“But I will be traveling alone a lot,” the teen sighs.

“Then bring something to listen to or something to read or well anything a teen would do while waiting for a ride to get them somewhere,” Steve responds. 

“People are less likely to bother you if your busy,” Bucky agrees. 

“Now, I forgot to ask,” Steve glances around the slowly filling car from each stop, “which stop is yours?”

Giving a shy smile Peter tells him.

The teen won’t say it out loud, but he’s glad.

Glad that these men helped him get home.

Clinging to the memories he’s creating with them as something to look back on later when he takes the subway alone.


	9. Ned's visit pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay.... "responsible adult job" and holidays got in the way....

Peter stares at the clock closely, watching as each second ticks by, each minute causing the hand to shift forward towards the hour marker. Each of these moments causing his anxiety to rise a hair.

Peter had taken Steve and Bucky’s advice from the other day. After taking Peter home, the pair reminded the teen to talk to his best friend before the new school year starts. Oddly enough Peter brought this up with his aunt later that night. Which she felt was a good idea. She agreed so much that she kept bringing it up to Peter until the teen caved and messaged Ned, asking if the other boy could come over for a few hours on Friday.

And Ned said yes.

So Peter sits in the living room, staring at the clock while it counts down to eleven when Ned is supposed to arrive. 

Ned had been excited to hear from Peter. The other boy responding immediately with a yes followed by a list of questions that Peter couldn’t quite answer with just a few text messages. Even the trivial ‘how was the summer’ statement was impossible for Peter to say anything about without bringing up Karen and all the issues last spring. 

So he settled with just saying he’ll answer all the questions when Ned comes over. 

“Relax Peter,” Aunt May cuts through Peter’s anxious thoughts as she places a plate of cookies on the coffee table. “Its going to be alright, Ned is your best friend and he’ll understand and accept whatever parts you decide to tell him.” 

With a shaky breath, Peter nods, “I hope so.”

The woman hugs Peter’s shoulders, “I know so.” 

“What time do you have to leave today?” the teen shifts the topic.

“My shift starts at noon so shortly after Ned arrives, I’ll have to leave. Unless,” she glances at Peter, “you need me to stay.”

Peter shakes his head, “no you don’t have to stay. You need to work, you’ve taken enough time off for me.”

“Well I’ll be home after dinner, Ned can stay for however long his mom will let him, and I’ve left money on the table for you to order dinner.”

Peter just nods, glancing at the clock before focusing his attention on Karen who lays on the couch. He picks up her head and puts it on his lap, focusing on the pressure and gently petting motion he does to her head. 

The clock hands continue to move forward.

Time continues to move onward. 

Until a knock at the door echoes through the small two-bedroom apartment.

With that sound, time freezes for Peter. 

A silent pause.

A glance between his aunt and him.

Karen’s head lifting to glance towards the front door location. 

A second round of knocks allows time to unfreeze.

Peter’s aunt quickly walks to the front door while Peter pulls Karen closer to his body.

He can hear his aunt speaking, followed by the sound of a familiar male voice.

Ned Leeds.

His best friend since elementary school.

Peter didn’t realize how much he missed the other teen until Ned’s voice filled the air. 

The round Filipino boy emerges into the living room and Peter feels some of his anxiety vanish and be replaced with the excitement he always gets when seeing Ned.

“Peter!” Ned launches towards Peter with arms open wide.

“Hey Ned,” Peter pushes Karen off his lap and accepts the other teen’s hug.

“Man it’s good to see you, its been so long dude,” Ned chuckles as he pulls back.

“Yeah, lots of stuff happened,” Peter shrugs and waves at the couch, “want a seat? Aunt May made cookies.” 

Ned eyes the plate cautiously.

“Don’t worry,” Peter whispers, “they’re regular chocolate chip from the bag.”

Ned nods and swipes several from the plate.

Both boys flop down on the couch, Karen adjusts herself so her head is back onto her handler’s lap.

“So,” Peter rubs Karen’s head as he watches Ned eat cookies, “I’m not quite sure where to start.”

“Well,” Ned looks at Karen, “why don’t you start with your new friend.” 

Peter nods, “so this is Karen, she’s my service dog.”

Ned nods, “ok. Can I pet her?”

Peter nods, “yeah, just not for too long.”

The boy reaches over and pets Karen softly, “hi Karen, I’m Ned.”

She responds with a lick to Ned’s hand and returning her head to Peter’s lap. 

“So,” Ned munches on another cookie, “why do you have Karen? I mean you don’t need to tell me details but a general idea would be nice so I know what to look for if something happens,” Ned shrugs while glancing at Peter nervously.

Peter nods and takes a couple deep breathes. 

“No rush buddy,” Ned whispers, “whatever you want to say, whenever you’re ready.”

Peter continues to take over emphasized breathes as he pets Karen.

“So, you know how I was…how I….when my uncle and aunt…..gosh this is hard,” Peter groans. 

“Take your time Peter,” Ned reaches out but stops as Peter flinches.

Peter takes a breath and tries again, “Skip,” he manages to whisper.

“The neighbor boy you hung out with when your aunt and uncle worked? The high school senior from down the way? He was creepy, I’m glad you stopped hanging with him when we entered high school last year.”

Peter nods and coughs a little, “he ah….he did something….to me….yeah.” 

Peter doesn’t look at Ned, rather begins to pick at the hem of his shirt.

“He hurt you? Peter is that why you were all gloomy that last year of middle school?”

Peter nods and focuses on picking small hairs off Karen’s head that had come loose while he had been petting her.

“It…ah…it got bad….uncle Ben and aunt May where…..I was getting…..last year they had me see someone,” Peter tries to continue, “and it was going ok. I was getting better. But then—”

Peter shifts more, facing away from Ned and focusing on picking hairs off Karen’s back.

“Then what Peter?” Ned prompts.

“Ben,” the teen whispers, “I got….Ben he….because of me…”

“No!” Ned yelps and Peter flinches. Peter glances at the other teen, “Ben wasn’t your fault.”

Peter blinks, starting to rock in his seat, “yes…no…I don’t know….Ned it was all to much. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Couldn’t do what Peter?” Ned murmurs, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I ah…” Peter starts rocking harder as he tries to find words.

Karen sits up, trying to gently press into the teen’s chest. 

“Ok Peter, yes or no: do you need me to get your aunt?” Ned murmurs when he sees Karen take position.

“No,” Peter hoarsely responds, “I have to….I need to….”

Ned hums, “ok then take your time. There is no rush Peter. I’m just going to sit here.”

Peter’s thoughts begin to filter to the front of his brain. 

He needs—no he wants to tell Ned. 

_ Ned will know your broken _

No, Peter can’t think that

_ But you are broken. Skip broke you, he made you dirty _

His therapist! She says these are bad thoughts. He needs to push past them.

_ But your therapist says its ok to talk to some strangers and look where that got you: a friendly conversation with the stranger who ended up shooting your uncle _

Peter felt the sting of bile rising in his throat from his stomach.

“Oh Peter!”

Ned’s voice draws the other teen’s focus.

“Did you see the new Death Star lego set?” Ned holds up his phone with a picture on it, “well I helped out this summer doing some odd jobs for the family so between that and my mom giving me some extra allowance, I’m buying this!”

“That’s,” Peter clears his throat, “that’s great Ned.”

“Yeah! Do you think that you want to help me?”

Peter nods.

“Great,” Ned messes around on his phone, “by the way check out the awesome sandcastle I managed to make. Totally rocked the family sandcastle competition, my snotty cousin was so pissed.”

Ned produces the photos showing himself lording over a rather large sandcastle that was surprisingly holding up. Peter realizes his friend is working hard at keeping Peter distracted and calm. Peter is once again reminded how great Ned is. 

“Feeling a little better or do you want me to tell you about my aunt trying to cook my grandma’s traditional recipe for the family cook off? Or we can talk about when—"

“Panic Disorder, anxiety, and compulsive self harm,” Peter blurts out rapidly at random. 

Peter gasps and hugs Karen to him, burying his face into her shoulder and refusing to look at Ned. 

He doesn’t want to see Ned’s reaction.

“Peter?” 

Ned’s voice is soft but firm, catching Peter’s attention again.

“Peter can you look at me?”

Slowly Peter turns his head, glancing out from Karen’s side and managing to look towards Ned.

“Listen to me Peter,” Ned leans in, “you’ve been through so much crap over the years. Things that someone shouldn’t experience in one lifetime let along within the first fifteen years of their life. You are strong, you are brave, and there is nothing wrong with you.”

“But—” Peter whispers.

“No ‘buts’,” Ned shakes his head, “You’re healing and Karen is helping you heal, that doesn’t change our friendship. Unless you don’t want to be my best friend still?” Ned grins.

Peter chuckles, “no I want you to be my best friend still.”

The other teen nods, “ok good.” 

Ned reaches into a backpack he had brought and abandoned, pulling out a set of Uno cards.

“How about we play a round or two? Just take a quick break then come back to the heavy topics in a bit?”

Peter nods, “yeah. Yeah.”

Ned lights up and moves around the coffee table to the floor.

Peter slides to the floor in front of the couch, Karen following and laying on Peter’s lap again. 

“Thanks Ned, for everything,” Peter sighs as Ned shuffles the cards.

“No worries Peter, this is what best friends are for,” Ned smiles.

Peter blinks as his eyes sting with heat, trying not to cry as Ned passes out cards.


	10. Ned's visit pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A second chapter in one week?  
...its my apology for me disappearing my dear readers...

“Six people, that’s the perfect number to play.”

Peter shakes his head, “no way Ned, four is the right number for Uno. Six makes the game never end, you practically need two decks to play.”

“But that’s the fun,” Ned sighs, “the length of the game and the silliness of it.”

“But four makes it fun still but the game does eventually end,” Peter argues.

“I think we can both agree on one thing though,” Ned leans over the coffee table with a serious look, “two people is not enough.”

Peter sighs, “agree.” 

Ned sticks the Uno deck on the coffee table but neither teen made a move to start another round. They had played two rounds, pausing in the middle to say by to Peter’s aunt and grab more cookies, but the two rounds are finally over and Peter waits for Ned to start asking questions.

Peter’s hand slides down onto Karen and pets her while he waits for his friend to start peppering him with questions. 

“Well, ah Peter,” Ned shifts his weight quietly, “can I ask you a couple things?”

The teen in question nods, “the games over so yeah.”

“Ok,” Ned pauses for a moment but Peter refuses to look up from his inspection of Karen’s fur coat. “So Karen is trained to warn people during your—well—moments or does she help during those moments?”

“Well both. She helps by providing grounding during attacks and interferes with any self-inflicting behavior. She will bark for help if I get bad.” 

Ned nods as Peter glances up at his friend.

“Is there anything I should be prepared to do to help you? Like something I should say or get or something?” 

Peter shrugs, “well its best to make sure tons of people don’t crowd me, you hanging around and talking to me to get my attention is fine but having the whole class hoover won’t help any.”

“Ok I can do that. How about afterwards, will you be tired?”

“Yeah I will probably be tired and have to go to the nurse,” Peter sighs.

It’s an agreement he made with his aunt, who has already called the school to inform them of this. For Peter to go back to school he has to follow certain promises he’s made to his aunt and one of them is to go to the nurse after a panic attack to recover his energy.

“How about if you’re—you know—have a painful moment?” Ned asks cautiously.

Peter sighs and shifts his legs under the coffee table nervously.

“Well, um...with that….” Peter takes a couple breathes again.

“If its hard Peter you don’t have to answer,” Ned reminds the teen.

“No, no, you should know. It’s, ah…well I don’t usually purposefully do things in public…to myself…but sometimes during my attacks, I sometimes will unconsciously do something to myself to try and focus or ground myself. Karen is trained to interfere, but you can move objects if I’m struggling. Like if I’m banging against a desk, you’ll have to move it away from me.”

“Ok I can do that.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Peter frowns.

“But I want to. Peter look at me!”

Peter glances up at his friend slowly. Ned is leaning over and looking intently at Peter.

“Remember when I broke my writing arm as a kid? You took all my notes, wrote my homework for me, helped me tie my shoes, heck you helped me change for gym.”

“But that’s different,” Peter tries to argue.

“No its not,” Ned argues back, “I needed help and you did it cuz you’re my best friend. So me moving a chair or a desk or me walking you to the nurse or anything is what best friends do.” 

The two fall silent for a moment as Peter processes what Ned is saying to him.

“Want to play my new game? Marvelous Heroes?” Ned offers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s go play it,” Peter smiles at the change of topic.

The pair and Karen retreat to Peter’s bedroom, Peter watches his best friend eye the room for a moment before going to the PS4 Peter got from Goodwill, and fixed up, to get the game ready. 

Peter’s bedroom has changed in the past months. Gone is the clutter, shelves moved higher on the walls, corners of the furniture covered with foam protectors, his toolbox out in the livingroom and no longer allowed in his bedroom, his bunk bed replaced with a low to the ground platform bed.

But Ned didn’t point any of these things out, rather he just pulls one of the many beanbags Peter now has in the room before the small TV, holding out one of the hand-me-down controllers. 

“Ready?”

Peter nods and flops down on his own beanbag, Karen going to her dog bed beside the dresser to sleep. 

“I like the increase of beanbags in here,” Ned smiles as the game fires up.

“Sorry about not having a bunkbed anymore,” Peter murmurs. 

Ned used to sleep on one of the bunks when he came over, but after Peter smacked his head off the bottom of the top bed his aunt quickly changed the bed type. Now if Ned wants to sleep over the other teen has to sleep on the floor.

“Dude don’t worry about it. You sleep on my floor in a sleeping bag at my place all the time,” Ned shrugs. 

“But still—”

“Peter,” Ned cuts him off, “don’t worry about it. Let’s just play, ok?”

Peter nods in agreement and focuses on the TV screen. The game is the popular new game, making your own superhero and picking powers from a large array, saving the fictional city from powered up enemies. 

“So I’m thinking I’ll take the power of technopathy, what power will you be picking?”

Peter pages through the long choice list for several minutes.

“Guess I’ll just use the randomizer,” Peter sighs, unable to make a choice. 

Pressing the button, Peter’s side of the screen rapidly flashes and moves onto character creation with the randomized power at the top of the screen. 

“Spider power, well that can be cool,” Ned smiles, “what will your name be?”

“Well, going to make it easy: Spiderman,” Peter laughs. 

“Then I’ll be your Guy in the Chair,” Ned laughs.

“Does that even fit in the name bar?” 

“Oh look at that, it sure does,” Ned grins and submits the name. 

Peter’s focus hones in on the game, the two teens playing it intensely and no realizing the time continues to tick onward.

Until Peter’s phone begins ringing obnoxiously while the pair are rescuing a family in the game.

“Is someone calling you?”

Peter only groans and pauses his screen, “no. I have to eat and take some meds right now.”

“Oh is it that late already?” 

“Do you need to go?” Peter realizes they never spoke about when Ned needed to go home.

“Oh no, I brought my backpack in case I could stay the night. Just gotta let my mom know if I end up staying.” 

Peter nods, “ok um..well why don’t we eat and, well, after we can decide about…well staying over.”

Ned nods slowly and Peter realizes how his words sound after a few seconds.

“Its not that I don’t want you to stay the night,” Peter quickly adds, “its just, well, nights are kinda…well they’re still a little, um, well, hard—”

“Dude,” Ned cuts Peter off as he stands up, “I get it, no worries. Now lets go see if you aunt has any edible food,” the boy laughs.

Peter follows, summoning Karen to his side, “she did leave us pizza money.”

“Awesome!”

Ned fist bumps as the pair enter the eating area of the apartment.

And as Peter eats and takes his meds, the teen realizes that things were going better then he had envisioned. 

But he is ok with that, he needed some good surprises.


	11. 2nd meeting....and a new friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter this time....sorry, not sorry

Peter stands before the ominous wooden door feeling the twist of his guts knotting up with anxiety. 

He was here last Saturday. 

He’s met the men on the other side twice now.

He’s talked to them.

Emailed a few too.

But he still feels the painful twist of his stomach and intestines.

“Peter,” his aunt breaks into his circular thoughts, “I’ll be just down the hallway sweetie. You’ll be ok,” she hugs him while nudging him towards the door. “Deep breath, remember you know these guys now. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know, its just…well, I don’t know,” he sighs, “everything went so good with Ned. But then I woke up today and—and—ugh!”

His aunt gently squeezes his shoulder, “babe your therapist and I have said this before: there will be good days and there will be bad days. Sometimes bad days happen for a reason and sometimes they just happen out of the blue. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” he exhales.

“Ok. You ready to go in?”

Nodding the teen moves forward slowly, Karen patiently moving at his side just as slowly. With one last glance at his aunt giving him the thumbs up, Peter opens the door and enters the room waiting for him.

Only to find one person in the room.

A boy around Peter’s age sits in the circle of chairs with a sleek black lab sleeping beside him. The dog’s fur matches the sleek black hair of the boy that falls in a purposely messed up look that Peter’s aunt keeps trying to do to his head. Of course that fails every time.

The boy wears a green and white t-shirt, tight black jeans, green and white converses, and bands around his wrists. He is fashionable in a way Peter has always wished he could be.

Peter tugs at his hoodie, trying to pull the couple wrinkles out of it. 

The boy stares at his phone while eating a lollipop, unaware of Peter taking a few steps forward into the room. 

That is until the other dog lifts its head and stares at Peter and Karen intently. The other boy notices and looks over, green eyes landing on Peter.

And Peter freezes. 

Neither moving forward or backward.

Frozen like a wild anime in front of car headlights.

A tiny voice in Peter’s head screams: stranger danger, his anxiety kicking up a few levels.

“So,” the boy sighs, “you’re the reason why Sam kept calling to see if I was coming today.”

Peter continues to stare, unable to respond to the unknown boy even though he knows he should say something. 

It’s just another boy.

Why is he struggling? Why is he anxious over this? He’s introduced himself before to others his age.

“Do you talk?” the boy frowns.

“Y-yes,” Peter squeaks out, wincing at the sound of his voice.

_ oh, gawd he probably thinks I’m weird. Who stares at someone for so long? What’s wrong with me _

The other teen pats the chair beside him, “come sit down. Sam had to take a quick call. We can get to know each other while we wait. After all, I’m sure that’s what Sam is hoping we will do.” 

Peter can only respond with a nod, moving slowly towards the circle of chairs. 

He can feel his heart pumping loudly in his ears. His gut twists painfully. He’s only talked to Ned recently but even before he took medical leave, Peter didn’t have many friends and struggled socially with peers. Memories of failed attempts at making friends begin to push into the forefront of Peter’s thoughts. 

Karen suddenly obscures Peter’s vision and knocks him to his knees on the ground as she stands against him, paws on his shoulders. Her weight pressing down on him, he focuses on it and keeping himself upright and not completely falling on his back. 

Taking even breaths, Peter finds himself relaxing, petting Karen and holding her close. 

Peter finally finds himself back in control.

“Karen release,” he sighs. 

Karen returns to the floor and after a few seconds of verbal praise, Peter rises and faces the new boy.

“Sorry,” Peter says, eyes down.

“Yeah, don’t apologize. We all have our things. I mean that’s why we are all here after all.” 

Peter can hear the boy walking somewhere, but the mystery is solved when the boy’s face appears in Peter’s line of sight. The boy has bent over to meet Peter’s downward eye gaze.

“Besides, I’m not one to judge. I’m epileptic so randomly dropping to the floor during important moments is kinda normal for me.” He straightens and Peter’s gaze follows allowing Peter to finally look up again. “Come sit down,” the boy waves at the chairs.

Peter nods and follows the boy to the circle, plopping down beside the other teen once he gets Karen a puffy bed to lay on.

“I’m Loki,” the boy holds out his hand, “Loki Odinson.”

“Loki?” Peter raises an eyebrow at the strange name.

“Cool isn’t it,” the other teen—Loki—smiles, “No one has a name like it these days.” 

“Oh yeah. It is unique,” Peter nods, feeling the anxious knot in his stomach start loosening. Gathering some courage, Peter pushes onward, “I’ve never met anyone with it actually. My name is rather common. I’m-I’m just Peter,” Peter shrugs, “Peter Parker.”

“Well Peter Parker, you’re the first Peter I’ve ever met so your name isn’t common to me either.”

Taking a breath, Peter decides to continue with a question, “are you from around here?”

Loki shrugs while inspecting his black painted nails, “My older brother and I are from Norway actually. We immigrated here not too long ago.”

“Wow,” Peter gasps, “I’ve only left the state a few times and only to go nearby like DC or New Jersey, you’re lucky to get to travel so far.”

Loki shrugs, eyes still on his nails, “yeah well its ok I guess.”

Peter can hear the tone of Loki’s voice and knows there is more to the story. 

But Peter doesn’t ask.

It isn’t his place.

They just met.

“So,” Peter clears his throat, “how long have you been coming to this?”

“Oh I’ve been here on and off for the last couple years.” Loki points at the sleek dog at his feet, “This is my seizure alert dog Fenrir.”

“This Karen,” Peter pats her on the head as she lifts it to her name. 

“Peter!” 

The voice catches both Peter’s attention and his new acquaintance Loki’s. 

Sam walks towards the pair with a smile and wave. Behind him comes Clint, his dog bounding in excitedly off its leash towards the teens. 

“Great,” Loki frowns, “the old man is here.”

“Hey now,” Clint slides into a chair opposite of the teens, “that means you owe me some respect punk.”

“You can have it when you earn it,” Loki smirks.

Peter started to worry that the pair were going to have a verbal argument but Loki’s smirk and Clint’s wink allowed the teen to realize the pair were being playful with their words. 

“Well, well, well, our diva makes an appearance,” another voice enters the conversation.

Peter watches as Mr. Stark and Rhodey enter the circle with smiles and waves to everyone.

“Gawd,” Loki groans, “Just because I am a tea purest and I know the difference between a real cup of tea versus some hot water heated in a microwave with a cheap tea bag in it, doesn’t mean I’m a diva.”

“No way kid,” Mr. Stark grins, “that long-winded explanation itself is a testimony to your nickname.”

Loki groans, “whatever.” 

“Ok,” Sam cuts in, “lets change the topic. Tony do you know if Bruce is coming today?”

“We reminded him,” Mr. Stark pulls out his phone, “but he hasn’t responded so who knows.”

“Clint have you heard from Steve or Bucky?”

“Steve said they’re planning to be here,” Clint shrugs.

“And we are here,” the low voice echoes in the room. 

Bucky walks to the group, flopping into the chair between Clint and Mr. Stark. Winter flops at his feet once he grabs a blanket for her to lay on.

“Welcome Bucky,” Sam greets him. “Why don’t we get started. If Bruce shows up late we’ll just catch him up on the topic once he gets here.”

The door to the room slams open causing all the men to glance back at it.

Peter watches as a red headed woman dressed in dark, tight clothes walks in with a look of determination that makes Peter shiver.

He definitely didn’t want to get on her bad side.

“Have no fear, Bruce is here,” she grins as she tugs Bruce Banner into the room after her. “Someone got lost in their work.”

Bruce flops into the chair with help from the woman between Sam and Clint, Hulk flopping at his feet just as loudly.

“Hey Natasha,” Clint grins and squeezes the woman’s arm, “didn’t know you were with Bruce today.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be, but someone left their phone with me and it kept going off with reminders and messages about today.”

She eyes Bruce and the man cringes under the gaze. Peter realizes this must be the woman the guys all spoke of in the park a few days ago.

“Oh, you’ve got a new addition,” she glances at Peter, the teen glancing away in an instant. 

“My name is Peter,” the teen replies, “Peter Parker.”

Peter hears footsteps coming closer. Glancing up, he finds the woman in front of him, blocking the view of Clint.

Bending down, she offers him a smile, “I’m Natasha Romanoff,” her voice is calmer and quieter, “I’m friends with these guys here but if any of them give you a hard time, let me know and I’ll kick their butts.”

She offers a business card to Peter.

He takes it with a smile, “I don’t doubt it ma’am.”

“Call me Natasha,” she corrects him gently, “it was nice meeting you Peter but I should be off.”

The group say their goodbyes to the woman, once the door clicks shut is when Sam collects everyone’s attentions with a clap. 

“Ok let’s try starting again,” Sam restarts, “so lets begin with our open sharing time.”

“Well,” Mr. Stark stretches and smiles, “several of us here got to enjoy a glorious picnic in a dog park over in Brooklyn.”

“Yes,” Sam nods, “so many of you keep telling me. Did it all go well in your opinion Tony?”

The man shrugs, “I think it went well. At least until Underoos feel out of the tree.”

Peter glances at his feet, “sorry,” he mutters.

“No worries kid,” Clint speaks up and Peter sees the man shoot Mr. Stark a dark look. “All that matters is you were ok in the end.”

Peter nods and looks back down at Karen, focusing on her new gear and avoid thinking about the tree incident.

“Peter,” Sam catches the teen’s attention, “that looks like a new vest on Karen.”

He nods, “Mr. Stark gave ‘em to me.”

“That’s nice of him,” Sam responds gently.

Peter nods. 

He shifts his weight in his chair.

Glancing up he sees the men watching him.

Was he supposed to say more?

Bucky clears his throat, “I decided to go visit some military friends this week.”

Peter felt relief fill him and he offers a small smile to the man who nods in response between them.

“How did that go?” Clint grins, “did you guys paint the town red? Run buck wild through Brooklyn?”

“Who even says ‘paint the town red’ anymore,” Loki sighs.

“I do,” Clint sticks his tongue out.

Loki just scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“No,” Bucky butts in, “we didn’t go wild. We just met up for coffee at a little shop.”

“How vanilla,” Clint sighs, “you boy toy is rubbing off on you.”

“Clint!” Bruce gasps, “there are children present.”

“No please,” Loki waves his hand, “do go on. I’m sure Peter is enjoying this as much as I am.”

Peter only shrugs but wears a smirk while doing so.

“Anyway,” Buck rolls his eyes, “we met for coffee. It went well. Most of our crew have been honorably discharged from the incident overseas. We talked, caught up on life, and went home in time for dinner. The end.”

Mr. Stark chuckles, “you should never volunteer for children’s story time.”

Feeling bad for Bucky, Peter decides to move the attention to himself to help the guy, “I met with my best friend this week. The first time we’ve met up since last spring and before—well—everything.”

“So,” Bruce speaks up, “your friend didn’t know about Karen or things going on with you?”

Peter shook his head.

“How did it go?” Sam asks.

Peter shrugs, “it took a while to finally tell him some things. I wasn’t able to tell him everything but enough for him to get the idea.”

“How did he respond?” Bruce continues.

“Um, well. Really well,” Peter feels his smile grow bigger, “I have an amazing best friend.”

“Better to have one amazing best friend then a dozen so-so friends,” Mr. Stark smiles, “right Platypus?”

Rhodey nods, “sure thing.” 

There is a quiet moment before Sam speaks up again, “so Loki, how’s things with you and your brother?”

“He’s still a blonde, muscled idiot but we’ve been—working through things,” Loki responds and Peter sees the tiniest twitch of a smile on the other boy.

“No issues living here in the US still?”

The other teen shakes his head, “no. We’re good still. Mom is still not well and dad—well it could be better but its not as bad as it used to be.”

“Thor?” Peter responds, “your brother’s name is Thor?”

Loki gives Peter a once over with a curious look, “out of all the things I’ve said you focus on my older brother’s name?”

Peter shrugs, “never heard about a person named Thor.”

Loki scoffs with a smirk, “you are something Peter.” The dark-haired teen turns to Sam, “you were right, he is fun.”

“Well I have something to share,” Clint jumps in.

With that Clint launches into a long story about his kids and him going to a mall to shop for school stuff. A story that Peter began to lose focus on as it began to grow in length. 

Peter had zoned out, eyes gazing beyond Clint, when he felt a nudge.

Looking over Peter finds Loki eyeing him.

“Give me your phone real quick,” the other boy hisses.

Peter slowly pulls it from his pocket and Loki snatches it, types for a second, then hands it back.

“That’s my cell number,” Loki informs Peter, “drop me a text sometime.” 

Peter nods and offers a smile to the other teen, “thanks.”

“Hey,” Clint catches both teens attention, “I’m telling an epic story here.”

“Sorry,” Peter winces.

“Oh yeah, so epic,” Loki rolls his eyes.

“Loki,” Sam chides the other teen, “remember this is a safe space. We don’t judge here.”

“Right, right,” Loki sighs. 

“Hey Peter?”

The teen turns towards Bruce, “yeah?”

“Will you have any chemistry classes this year?”

Peter nods, “yeah I’ll have lab time.”

The man nods, “well I just want to point out that Karen may not like being in the lab much if you’re using strong components. Sometimes Hulk will have to sit outside my door if I’m working on something strong.”

“If I’m working on something loud,” Mr. Stark jumps in, “I’ll have to put Friday out too.”

“But if I leave her in the hallway,” Peter gasps, glancing between the two men, “what if someone steals her or—or something happens to her or—or…I can’t lose lab time! I love lab time,” Peter screeches. 

Karen wakes and moves into a sitting position at Peter’s feet, he reaches out to touch her half consciously.

“Calm down kid,” Mr. Stark reaches over to squeeze Peter’s knee. “Only for the strong chemicals or really loud sounds do we suggest Karen step out. You can easily stick her in the doorway or in a spot you can see her from the doorway. When using stuff like that, your science teacher should have the door open a bit.”

“And that’s only under certain circumstances,” Bruce adds, “the rest of the time Karen should be fine under the desk or behind you if you’re worried something might spill.”

“Bruce has a cool outfit for Hulk actually,” Rhodey adds.

“Oh yes,” Bruce nods, “I have dog goggles, dog lab coat, and dog shoes for Hulk.”

“Do I need those things?” Peter begins to feel the knot of worry starting to twist up in him.

“You’re just a kid doing kid projects,” Mr. Stark responds, “I think the only thing you will need is dog goggles since you are at a STEM school. Maybe more stuff for the more advanced classes or internships if you choose that route.”

“How much will that cost?” Peter murmurs.

“What’s your address Underoos?” Mr. Stark cuts him off while typing on his phone.

Peter rattles it off out of instinct, realizing to late that he probably shouldn’t have said that with people he doesn’t know too well still.

“Ok well I just sent out an order, the dog goggles and lab coat will arrive in the next couple days to your place,” the man grins and pockets his phone.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter gasps, “you—you didn’t have to---you didn’t—I could have—”

“Don’t worry about it kid,” Rhodey smiles at the teen, “Tony’s got more money then he needs and he likes buying things for people he likes.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he turns to the man, “you—you like me? Mr. Stark?”

The man nods, “I sure do. Can’t say I’ve met a lot of teens who I find interesting, but you’re one of them.”

“What about me?” Loki snaps

“Well I guess it depends on if you’re in a good mood or not,” Mr. Stark responds with a smirk.

Loki snorts and rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“Well,” Sam cuts in before anyone else could talk, “it seems our session time is running short. Any last thoughts before your loved ones swarm the area?”

After some silence and a few head shakes, Sam smiles and ends the session.

The men stood and began to talk amongst each other as they mill towards the door, Peter hangs back some, slower to leave. 

His brain was busy focusing on one fact: Mr. Stark likes him. 

“Peter?”

The teen glances up, looking around the men in the hallway to see his aunt at the end waving at him with a smile.

And a really tall, muscular blonde man standing beside her that could easily pass from some kind of magazine model. 

“Oh look, it seems my brother has gone and made friends with your mom,” Loki sighs, “he has no stranger danger awareness.”

“That’s my aunt and if he wants to listen to her talk about whatever new recipe she wants to try or new hobby she wants to take up then that’s fine cuz I’m not up for that myself,” Peter sighs.

“Oh,” Loki smirks, “yeah we will definitely get along I think.” 

“Peter did it go well?”

The teen nods as his aunt hugs him.

“You must be Loki,” his aunt holds out her hand to the teen, “I’m May Parker. Your brother was just telling me about you.”

“Oh?” Loki raises his eyebrow, “complaints I’m assuming.”

Peter’s aunt laughs, “no. Just that you’re a little mischievous and maybe you might be willing to hang out with Peter sometime.”

Loki nods, “actually that sounds cool. Text me sometime Peter.” 

Loki waves and walks the few more steps it takes for him to reach his brother, dragging the man out off with some kind of remark that makes the man laugh deeply. He turns back only to wave, which Peter’s aunt returns.

“Those boys are really good looking,” Peter’s aunt mutters.

“May!”

“Oh hush,” she blushes, “I was just looking. Now lets head off.”

“Wait!” Peter glances around, “we need to find Mr. Stark! I need to thank him.”

“Didn’t you thank him for the gear already?” His aunt frowns.

“Yeah but he just ordered me stuff for Karen to wear in the lab at school. I need to thank him.”

“Maybe he is outside.”

The pair quickly leave the building, glancing around the area to see if Mr. Stark is in the parking lot or on the street.

“There!” his aunt points.

Mr. Stark is leaning against a silver audi looking at something on his phone while Rhodey and another man are talking to each other.

Peter jumps off the steps and jogs towards the group through the lawn, Karen keeping pace and excited for the exercise. 

“Mr. Stark!”

Peter stumbles to a stop before the man with a few uneven gasps. 

“Geez kid,” Mr. Stark pockets his phone, “relax and slow down.”

“I—I wanted to say—say thanks for the stuff. All of it,” Peter gasps and tries to slow his breathing.

He shouldn’t have held his breath while jogging.

So stupid. 

“No need for thanks kid. In fact I’m making a new rule for you. You are only aloud to thank me once for things because I think you’d say thank you for hours if I let you,” Mr. Stark smirks.

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Peter nods, making a mental not.

“Drop the sir kid,” Mr. Stark sighs.

“Sorry Mr. Stark,” Peter winces.

“Ok and I think I’m adding sorry as a one and done thing too,” the man chuckles. 

“Hey kid,” a gruff voice cuts in.

Peter smiles toward Mr. Stark’s bodyguard Happy and waves, “hey Mr. Happy.”

The man nods and returns to talking to Rhodey.

“I have to get going kid,” Mr. Stark adds, “but I do want to hear from you soon. And if I don’t hear from you by time school starts then I’m going call the first day and ask.”

Peter nods.

He doubts the busy Tony Stark would call some poor kid from Queens about his first day of school.

But it’s a nice dream to have.

“See you later Mr. Stark,” Peter waves and says bye to the other men.

Walking away, Peter sees his aunt smiling at him on the steps.

“Feel better?”

He nods, “yeah.”

“Ok well lets get going, we still need a few more items for your school semester.”

With a smile Peter follows his aunt, Karen playfully bumping against his leg.

That’s when Peter realizes something.

The knot in his stomach is gone. The feeling of anxiety and dread from the morning gone as if it was never there.

The day was definitely looking up now.


	12. School time!

Peter's body jerked into awareness with the feeling of his shoulder moving rapidly and unplanned. Reaching up swiftly, the teen grabs the source of the movement, squeezing the offending hand tightly.

"Peter, babe wake up. It’s just me, May."

"M'kay?" He responds, words muffled by his pillow.

"You're ok. Nothing bad bud, it's just the first day back to school."

Peter lets out a groan, loud and long.

His aunt just chuckles, "well perhaps to a teenager it's bad. Get up and start your routine sweetie, lots to do before we go."

With a second moan Peter pushes his head further into the pillow while he hears his aunt’s footsteps wander away. 

But the attempt to catch five more minutes of peace is interrupted as a rough and moist tongue begins to bathe his left arm hanging of the bed. Looking up Peter finds Karen licking away at her handler, tail slapping the wooden floor in excitement.

“Ok, ok Karen. I’m getting up,” he yawns and stretches.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter begins his morning routine the second his feet hit the floor. Grabbing a sweatshirt and doggie bags on his way to the front door, Peter takes Karen out and down to the tiny grassy area in front of the apartment building to relieve herself. Once done, Peter cleans up and the pair return to the apartment where May smiles while holding up a plate of toast for Peter and Karen’s bowl. Munching on the butter and jam toast, Peter sets about making Karen’s breakfast of kibble and raw ingredients. A special diet for his special girl. Once Karen is scarfing her food down, Peter finishes downing his food while his aunt pushes his pill box towards him. He has long gotten over the pill refusal stage, but his aunt continues to double check since then.

Peter’s favorite part of his routine comes after breakfast. Showering and dressing isn’t really special but as Peter styles his hair, Karen nudges at his leg several times. Pulling out Karen’s brush, Peter brushes Karen while cooing sweet words about being pretty. She always wants to be brushed when Peter does his own hair, or she follows May into the bathroom and sees her doing up the long locks. 

Peter takes the vest Mr. Stark gave him, walking Karen to his bedroom and closing the door to block out his aunt’s voice on the phone with someone from work. 

“Ok Karen: sit.”

Peter runs a series of commands, Karen executing each perfectly and her eyes focusing on her handler with each command until the final sit. Putting on her service dog vest, patches Mr. Stark put on screaming ** SERVICE DOG, DO NOT PET**\--**WORKING, DO NOT DISTRACT **, Peter gives Karen final morning readiness command.

“To work Karen.”

Unlike her bounding walk and excited hops earlier, Karen stands and walks dutifully at Peter’s side as the teen grabs his backpack and heads to the front door.

“We’re ready May,” Peter calls while putting on Karen’s leash.

“Oh look at you two,” she rounds the corner with a smile, “my babies all ready for the first year of 10th grade. Should I take a photo for the book?”

Peter rolls his eyes, “no thanks.”

His aunt just chuckles as she gathers her things, “spoil sport.”

They exit the apartment and head to the parking lot, Karen laying in the back on the bench seat, head in Peter’s lap.

As they pull out, Peter’s hit with a realization. Last year this time he was sitting in the front seat, practically bouncing in place with excitement to go to high school.  
Now he sits in the back with a service dog and with enough meds in his system that he isn’t sure if the bounce in his leg is from them or the anticipation. 

“You ok buddy?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Why?”

“I can hear you tapping your feet on the car floor over my music and morning traffic,” Peter glances from the window to see his aunt eyeing him in the mirror.

“I’m ok, just a lot of thoughts.”

“does Karen have your emergency medication in her vest?”

Peter nods, “I packed it last night and made sure the patch is secure on the pocket.”

She nods, “remember I spoke to the nurse. If it gets hard you have permission to go to her for calming times. The principle assured me he let the staff know but if anyone does give you a hard time let me know and I’ll make sure they remember for next time.”

Peter can’t help but laugh, his aunt was on a warpath the day before. It was a teacher in-service day and she stormed Midtown with a pile of papers and Peter’s therapist on hold to make sure Peter had accommodations for the school year. The way she left the apartment that morning someone would think she was going to fight some villain or at least to court with her appearance and ferocious determination written all over her face. 

His aunt begins talking about plans they could make for the weekend, her work schedule, Karen’s bathing schedule, and everything she could talk about—except for school. Peter knew she was trying to distract him with each block that brings them closer to the building in question.

And it was working. 

Peter didn’t feel the knot in his gut twist any more then usual. 

Or it could be because he just took his meds and they’re taking a strong effect right off.

Peter’s phone pings.

**Ned:** _ I’ll be waiting at the entrance gate for you so we can go in together _

“who was that Peter?” 

“Ned, he’s going to be waiting for me at the entrance.”

“Oh that’s so nice of him. I’m thankful every day that you found Ned.”

“So am I,” Peter murmurs with a smile. 

They continue their idle chatter, Peter’s answers becoming shorter as he recognizes buildings around him more and more. Familiar bus stops and subway stops mark the point his knot in his gut begins to really twist like its alive. He pets Karen, the dog moving more into Peter’s lap as he focuses on breathing evenly. He knows Ned is waiting for him. But there will be so many others there too, walking in, seeing him and Karen, watching him. 

Wondering why he had missed the end of the school year.

Wondering why he needs Karen.

Wondering, watching, waiting to jump him with questions.

Peter’s vision is full of Karen’s fur of all sudden, sitting on his lap and leaning into Peter’s chest allowing the teen to focus on the weight and stop the rocking he had intentionally started. 

“Peter babe,” his aunt calls quietly, “we’re here.”

Peter looks out the window, kids he recognizes walking up to a building he is familiar with. His aunt is in line to drop him off, cars moving at a crawl but still moving. Peter wants the car to stop moving. 

“Perhaps we should do a half day,” his aunt suggests, “you do the first couple classes and I’ll get you at lunch?”

“No,” Peter sighs into Karen’s fur, “I—I want to try. I want—want a normal day. I—”

“Peter you aren’t abnormal or weak if you need to go slow,” his aunt cuts him off.

Peter glances around Karen’s body at his aunt. “I’ll go. How about, um, how about—”

“you call at lunch if you’re not doing ok?” his aunt suggests, “If I don’t hear from you then I’ll get you at the end of the day?”

“You—you don’t have to keep picking me up and dropping me off.”

“No way Peter, your therapist and I agreed that you wouldn’t do the subway until after the first two weeks of school. I know its not cool for a teen to be driven around like Miss Daisy but this way I and your therapist know you’re safe and adjusting alright.” 

Peter nods, he knows he can’t win this fight.

But he doesn’t care. 

Part of him wants this, the security of his aunt coming and going with him.

He just wishes it came with less eyes watching him.

Or maybe that’s cuz the closer to the school the more people can see Karen sitting on his lap. 

“Lay down Karen,” he commands quietly and the dog lays on his lap.

His aunt pulls up to the drop zone and turns around to face Peter.

“Ok look at me,” Peter glances up to his aunt’s gaze, “you’ve got this. You’re not broken, you’re not sick, there is nothing wrong with you. Karen helps you navigate your day, she is an aid just like a grip on a pencil for people with fine motor needs.”

“Well not just like a pencil grip,” Peter smiles.

“There’s that smile,” she reaches out and pats Peter’s knee, “you’ve got this. You’re Peter Parker and no one is allowed to make you feel inferior.”

“You stole that quote didn’t you?”

She grins, “maybe. I love you.”

Peter’s hand touches the handle. With a deep breath he opens the door, “I love you too,” he smiles at his aunt as he exits the car with Karen at his side. 

“Call me if you need me!” she shouts out as Peter closes the door with a nod and a wave. 

“At the ready Karen,” Peter glances around, trying hard to ignore the few teens that have spotted him and Karen, “lets find Ned.”

Peter walks towards the school, eyes forward and avoiding the urge to glance around or down at the ground, determined to ignore the stares that he knows are happening around him.

But he doesn’t see Ned.

He’s reached the entrance arch to the school area, but no Ned.

Peter squeezes Karen’s leash.

Where’s Ned?

He gasps for air.

Maybe Ned got tired of waiting?

He chokes.

What if Ned got stopped by another person?

He gasps.

What if—

Peter’s phone begins to ring in his pocket. 

Without a second thought Peter grabs the device hoping to hear Ned on the other end.

“H-hello?”

“Hey Underoos.”

Not Ned. 

Mr. Stark!

“M-Mr. Stark, sir,” Peter gasps into the phone, “wh-what? Why?”

“Easy kid. I need you to take a deep breath in with me. Ok? Listen to me kid.”

Peter hears the man loudly inhale on the other end of the line. 

Peter mimics the sound himself.

They take a few breaths together.

“Good. Now I’m calling cuz its your first day back at school and wanted to wish you luck. Are you ok? You sound a little overwhelmed.” 

The teen grimaces, “I—I can’t, he’s not there. I don’t, I can’t—”

“Ok slow down kid. Yes or no: is your aunt nearby?”

“No.”

“Is your friend Ted nearby?”

“No. He—he’s supposed to be right here. He’s not. He’s—I don’t know.”

“Ok breathe again for me underoos.” They breathe together again, “so Ned was to meet you and he isn’t at the spot: yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Can you look around to see if he is nearby?”

“Mr. Stark, I—I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to see people looking at me,” he whispers in the phone. “I know they’re looking. I don’t want to see them looking.”

“Ok, how about this: you glance to your left and stay on the phone, tell me what you see.”

Peter glances over, he sees other students, kids getting out of cars, adults talking together. No Ned.

He relays this to Mr. Stark.

“Ok now look to the right.”

Peter glances over and sees more kids, more cars, and—

NED!

“Ned!” he gasps, “Ned is running over!”

“Great,” Mr. Stark sighs, “now listen up kiddo.”

“Uh huh.”

“You owe no one an explanation. Just tell them Karen is your service dog and she’s here to help you. No matter how they ask or demand, you don’t need to say anything you don’t want to. Understand?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Good, now run off to Sid,” the man chuckles on the other end.

“It’s Ned, Mr. Stark.”

“Whatever.”

Peter pauses for a second then smiles, “thank you Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome kid, now go learn something.”

Peter hangs up as Ned stops and pants for air.

“Dude, I forgot my phone in my mom’s car so I had to get her to swing round again. Sorry man. Were you waiting long?”

“No—no I wasn’t.”

“Who were you talking to?”

Peter shifted his weight, “can you keep a secret?”

The brown boy nods rapidly.

“So I go to a support group for people with service dogs and well…Mr. Stark is a member…he called to wish me good luck today.”

Ned nods.

Processes Peter’s words.

And Peter watches as Ned realizes what Peter just said as the other teen’s eyes widen.

“Oh my—”

“Shhh Ned,” Peter hisses, “don’t make a big deal.”

“But it is!” Ned whines, “THE Tony Stark called you! You Peter Parker!”

“Yes among other things.”

“What other things?”

“Well we did go out to eat once and go on a picnic,” Peter shrugs.

“Dude what is your life?” Ned exclaims, “new family member, new friends, dude you better not leave me behind.”

“I’d never leave you behind Ned,” Peter smiles.

“Come on, lets get going before the first bell rings,” Ned tugs on Peter’s arm but then let’s go real fast, “oh sorry man.”

“It’s ok Ned. I’m fine with that. Well, as long as its you doing the tugging.”

“Ok then,” Ned pulls harder, “let’s go dude before the halls get super crowded.” 

The pair walk up into the school, Peter can feel eyes looking at him, he can hear his name whispered every so often between loud conversations. 

Peter holds tight to Karen’s leash, eyes forward and ears focused on Ned’s rambling about his mother’s breakfast fiasco. 

“You doing ok?” Ned asks as they reach homeroom.

“Yeah, yeah. Just lets grab the locks and hit the lockers quickly please.”

“Ok, I’ll grab your lock and paper,” Ned nods and dashes into the room, returning faster then Peter had time to focus on his surroundings. 

“thanks Ned,” Peter sighs as they walk to sophomore hallway.

“Dude that’s what friends are for. Remember, you spent half a school year carrying around my books cuz of my arm.”

Peter nods.

“What me to wait till you finish at your locker?”

Peter shakes his head, “you can go to your locker. I’ll wait by mine for you.”

Ned eyes Peter and Peter tries to square up his shoulders and look as sure as he can.

“Alright, see yah in a moment. I have something cool to show you before we start class.” 

Ned walked away and Peter took a deep breath, steadying the knot trying to twist to life again now that he has nothing to distract himself with.

He focuses on getting his things into his new locker, organizing the notebooks and pens, reorganizing Karen’s go bag to make sure it’s all set for her. 

“What is this? The mysterious Peter Parker?”

Peter winces and zips Karen’s bag shut, putting it back on his shoulder.

“Yes its me,” Peter responds as he focuses on taking out one notebook from the pile, “what do you want Flash?”

“I want you to turn around and face me Parker, ever heard of manners?” 

Peter pauses, hand shaking. 

He can hear all of Flash’s past insults.

He can hear the potential onslaught of comments to come.

The knot in his stomach tightens up and Peter grips the locker tightly.

“Come on Parker, I don’t got all day.” 

Karen moves closer, Peter begins to pet her chest, breathing with the rhythm of his hand.

Slowly Peter stands, closing his locker and gripping his materials to his chest. 

“Karen block,” Peter mutters the command but the dog hears.

She moves and stands between Peter and Flash, body pressing against Peter’s knees like a fleshy baby-gate preventing Peter to move forward or Flash to get to close.

“What is it Flash,” Peter asks, eyes glancing up at the darker teen briefly before looking down at Karen.

“You vanished last spring and now you’re back with a service dog. What do you think I want?”

Peter shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Well, I want an explanation, what happened, where did you go?”

Peter shifts his feet.

He hears his heart beating loudly in his ears.

He feels sick.

But then Mr. Stark’s words echo through the unease.

“I was gone for personal reasons,” Peter replies, “and this is Karen my service dog, she’s here to help me.”

“That didn’t answer my questions,” Flash snaps.

“That’s the answer you get,” a voice cuts in.

Ned steps up between Flash and Peter, "that’s all you need to know Flash.”

“Look who grew a pair over vacation,” Flash snaps.

“Whatever,” Ned rolls his shoulders, “come on Peter, lets go pick our seats.”

Ned reaches back and nudges Peter into motion.

“Release Karen,” Peter commands. Karen returns to his side and walks with him as the two teens wander back to the homeroom. 

“I looked up stuff online after we hung out last week,” Ned speaks up, “I read that you don’t have to tell anyone details. You legally are protected Peter so don’t let anyone bully you into talking about stuff you don’t want to.”

“Thanks Ned,” Peter offers a small smile at his best friend.

“Anything for my bestie,” Ned flashes him a bright white smile.

The pair enter the homeroom, only one student sits in the room in the corner and the teacher reads through papers at his desk. 

“Middle, front, back? What’s best for you?”

“Back corner by the windows,” Peter mutters in response.

The pair make their way to the desks in the back corner but are stopped. 

“Mr. Parker.” 

Peter’s knot in his stomach tightened again.

Glancing up he meets the teacher’s eyes the man waves Peter forward.

Peter slowly walks to the front of the room, Karen sitting beside him as he stops at the desk.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m Mr. Clarke, I’m your homeroom, American history, and study hall teacher,” the man smiles, “I wanted to introduce myself to you before we start.”  
Peter felt his knot release some. 

He isn’t in trouble.

The man isn’t asking questions.

He’s ok.

“Thank you sir,” Peter offers a small smile and nod.

“Go sit down and relax, get your bearings ok?”

Peter nods and wanders back to the desk Ned was saving for him beside the window.

“That was nice of him,” Ned comments.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees as he unrolls the blanket from Karen’s bag, laying it on the floor by the desk for her. “Karen, lay down.”

She lays down in her spot, eyes remaining on her handler.

“What command do you give if there’s no space beside the desk?” Ned inquires.

“She will roll up under the desk when I say ‘b-a-l-l’…I won’t say it and confuse her though,” Peter answers as he sits.

Peter begins to do counting breathes, trying to relax the knot in his stomach, trying to push his intrusive thoughts aside as his therapist has taught him. 

“Peter.”

He opens his eyes and looks towards the teacher—Mr. Clarke who moves towards him. 

“Peter, the rest of the class will be arriving soon. We will have to explain to them about your friend,” he nods to Karen, “would you like to say something or shall I?”

Peter points at Mr. Clarke, “please.”

“Of course,” Mr. Clarke nods, “that is fine with me. If any of the other teachers make you stand up and talk when you don’t want to you let me know ok. Your aunt and the principle briefed us all so if they don’t follow the rules I can get them for it.”

“Aiming for that teacher of the year award?” a voice asks from behind Mr. Clarke.

Mr. Clarke’s smile grew wide, “well that would be an added bonus,” he turns to face the newcomer, “but right now its about Peter getting what he needs to help him navigate his day with little problems.”

Michelle Jones wanders over and plops down three seats away from Ned and Peter with a nod, “that better be right,” she mutters.

The bell rings before anyone can address the statement, Mr. Clarke moving to the front of the room as bodies of teenagers wander in to find seats. 

The more bodies entering the room the more Peter felt his shoulder folding in.

So many people.

He knows most of these faces.

He met them all before.

But its been so long.

He begins tapping his toes into the tile ground rhythmically, focusing on the feeling and the doodles he was making on his notebook.

“Hey Peter,” Ned whispers and holds out his phone, “check this out.”

Peter glances over and sees a photo of Ned holding a lego set.

“You got the death star set?”

“Yep, and when you want to, we can set up a time to work on it together.”

Peter nods, “that’s the advanced set with the extra pieces and the cut-a-way side.”

“Yep.”

“So cool,” Peter sighs. 

“I know man. Its going to be awesome.”

Peter had been saving for that set.

Until he used the money to buy stuff for Karen.

A lot of the money May and him had to spare went to Karen and him.

Peter tapped his foot harder, trying to push the thoughts away.

Until something pulled his pant-leg roughly.

Looking down Peter finds Karen holding onto his cuff, tugging it downward and refusing to let him tap it.

Peter pats her head, “good girl,” but doesn’t release her. He knows he’ll keep tapping if he does.

He can hear people muttering about her.

He can feel people are looking.

No on says anything loud enough yet.

But it will happen.

He knows it.

The late bell rings and each desk as a teenager at it, Peter knows Mr. Clarke is ready to start.

“So everyone, welcome back for another year at Midtown.” The man greets the class with a loud voice and bright smile, “its good to see you all made it on time. I’m Mr. Clarke, I will be your homeroom teacher, American history teacher, and for some of you, I’ll be your study hall teacher. Any questions?”

There are some mumbles but nothing spoken loud enough to make a point about.

“Ok good. So before we get into attendance I’d like to make a quick statement about one of your classmates. Mr. Parker has entered this school year with a service dog. No one is allowed to pet or distract Mr. Parker’s dog, that means no walking close and “bumping” into his dog, I know you teens like to find loopholes in adult directions. You are not to feed it or offer it treats, you are not allowed to pester Mr. Parker about why he has a service dog. Does everyone understand?”

There are nods and mutters, but one hand shoots up.

“Aren’t service dogs for people with some physical disability?” black haired girl that Peter remembers to be Rosie asks.

“Not entirely,” Mr. Clarke, “they act like aids for their handlers to help them engage in functional daily activities that for one reason or another may be difficult for them. A noticeable physical disability isn’t always a requirement.”

Peter’s foot begins to shake, but Karen tugs on it with a growl as she tries to hold it in place.

“You ok Peter?” Ned whispers.

Before Peter can respond someone else does, “how is that a service dog, its biting Peter’s foot like some violent dog.”

Peter glances up from Karen to see Betty Brant staring wide eyed at Karen.

The class looks towards the dog and Peter, all seeing Karen biting Peter’s pant leg. His foot continues to twitch but Karen holds tight.

“Karen is helping Peter right now,” someone snaps, “can’t you see she’s trying to perform a job and protect his foot.”

Peter glances over to see Michelle frowning at the class.

“Why—” a blonde boy named William starts to ask.

But Michelle cuts him off, “its none of your or my business to why Karen is doing what she is doing. But that dog is specially trained to do special things for Peter to help him. Now can we start class? The longer we wait the more stuff we will be left to finish for homework tonight and I don’t want to spend my first night after school doing hours of papers.” 

Mr. Clarke claps his hands together and everyone faces forward.

“Thank You Miss Jones. Now while I take attendance, I want you all to take out a piece of paper and place your names, the date, and number one through ten on the page with a space between each number.”

The class groans but the majority went to work and looked away from Peter and Karen. Peter sees Michelle give a small smile towards Peter, which he hopes he returned. He tried to smile. But sometimes it comes as a grimace. Hopefully it looks like a smile. 

Peter felt the urge in his leg and foot slowly lessen.

“Release Karen,” he murmurs as he reaches under the desk and pets her.

The dog releases and gives him a doggy smile that reassures the teen. 

He can do it.

He can do it.

He can do it.

He just needs to get through the day. 

He can do it. 

Hopefully.


	13. lunch plans disrupted

Peter used to be optimistic when he was little. He coped with his loses and struggles by trying to find the bright side or silver lining in things. That’s what his uncle Ben taught him, telling him to try and find a reason to smile because that took real strength. But after last spring, well….optimism isn’t quite in his vocabulary any more. 

But it might be coming back after today.

Peter’s morning went pretty well so far. His history class went off without a hitch after the initial start in homeroom. His English teacher, Mrs. Winterhalter, actually made the class fun which is something since he prefers math and science. With his third block being AP calculus, Peter’s day was going pretty well. Hardly anyone has made comments, sure there are looks and whispers, but so far the teachers made initial statements and life went on. 

With his after lunch classes being AP chemistry, his engineering elective, and Spanish class; Peter felt his day could actually be tolerable.

He’s just got to get through his lunch break first.

Easy task.

Right?

Karen walks beside him down the quiet halls, her leash attached to his waist as he uses both hands to eat the lunch his aunt packed. He moves towards the school’s front doors with the intent to let Karen go relieve herself and get a little break from working. 

“Excuse me young man, where do you think you’re going?”

Peter pauses between bites of his cucumber slices, glancing over at the speaker.

The woman sits at the raised desk angled towards the front door, the area behind her oozing into the front office room where the principle and other staff offices reside. The woman continues eyeing him, her pen nudging a laminated sign perched on her desk, the one saying ‘students need to be signed in and out’.

“I’m going outside,” Peter nodded towards the front door, “I’ll be back in real fast.”

“You can’t just come and go young man,” she snaps at him.

Peter jumps at the harshness of her voice, his heart picking up.

“I—I have to—to take her out,” Peter reaches down and pats Karen’s head as she presses up against Peter’s leg.

The woman lifts herself and glances over the desk down at Karen. 

“Well,” she clears her throat, “Just the same, I can’t let you go out front.”

“But—but I have to let her go to the bathroom,” Peter tried again.

“Take her outback,” the woman responds.

“You want me to let her go to the bathroom on the sports field? Isn’t that—like—like disrespectful? And what about the others—the others who are doing PE on the—fields?” Peter couldn’t believe this, he already has enough issues on his hands, putting the label of ‘kid who lets dog use expensive sports field as bathroom’ isn’t one he wants. 

So much for the day going well. 

“Then use the side yard,” she sighs as if this should be obvious to Peter.

“Where people sit outside to eat lunch?” Peter gasps in disbelief. 

There is a perfectly good patch of grass between the sidewalk and road out front, why can’t he just use that? No one will be bothered by that. 

“Kids don’t sit up against the fence, go let your dog do its business by the fence. It isn’t like people haven’t seen a dog go to the bathroom before,” she gestures for him to go back the way he came. 

Peter felt any confidence he had left in himself deflate into nothingness. With a sigh of defeat, Peter walks back into the hallways, heading for the lunch areas. 

Who knew lunch is where he gets his first major hurtle of the day.

Turning down the next hallway, the sounds of raised voices and basic lunchroom noises starts growing in intensity. His pace slows down but he continues toward the room. He has to go through the doors if he wants to be a good handler for Karen. He takes care of her as much as she takes care of him, he can’t let her down.

Peter reaches the lunchroom doors only to pause and rock on his feet. 

The lunchroom can’t be anymore loud then the subway and he did go on the subway.

With help from Steve and Bucky.

But he was able to do it.

And these aren’t strangers. These are his classmates. Kids he’s gone to school with before. He knows these people. They aren’t random nobodies; these are faces that go with names that if he tries he can remember. 

He can do this. 

Shoveling his peanut butter and jelly sandwich down, Peter used those seconds to free his hands from food to brace himself for the incoming volume he’s going to experience walking through the room. Unhooking Karen from his waist, Peter squares up his shoulders and exhales loudly as he opens the door.

The noise hits him and he fights the urge to physically step back. 

But he needs to keep going.

For Karen.

Eyes on the blue doors across from him, Peter walks straight for them in hopes to get to his destination without any issues.

People keep talking.

But he can hear some murmur his name.

He can feel eyes on him. 

But he just focuses on the door and breathing every few steps.

For Karen.

He needs to get out for her.

His heart is racing. Can he die from his heart going to fast?

He can do this.

He’s so close to the door.

A few more steps. 

The door opening was the most relieving sound he’s heard in the last few minutes. Peter feels his shoulders relax just a hair as he crosses the lawn to the iron fence and bushes protecting the school. He feels even better as he sees only a few students sitting outside, all of them sitting close to the lunch doors at the picnic tables, no one choosing to sit in the grass further away this time.

“Potty time Karen,” Peter loosens his hold on her leash, grasping the far end and letting the length swing between them as he tries to give her space to do her business. 

Karen shakes and bounces a little before sniffing around the plant life for a spot. Peter prepares himself by searching through his care bag he wears.   
Karen finally finds a spot to relieve herself and Peter tries to move closer to block her from the view of the lunchroom windows behind them. Finishing, she paces around Peter, tongue licking at his hand as she gives him a doggy smile.

He puts back the bags seeing her signal that she is done without going number two He dreads the response students will make at him when that day does come.

He wanders over to a small tree by the fence, choosing to remain outside where the noise is not as noticeable and hoping maybe Ned will find him out here. He brings out what’s left of his lunch and a brush for Karen, munching on the food while she flops down on his legs. Chuckling, Peter widens his legs causing her to flop onto the grass between them and lavishes kisses on her head. She responds by butting her head against Peter, relaxing on him as he passes the brush over her. 

“You’re such a good girl Karen,” he smiles, “doing so good today. Bestest girl every,” he coos. 

Karen offers a doggie smile and rests her head on his thigh, trying to lick Peter’s hand as he brushes. 

“Lookie who we have here!”

Peter glances up to see a small group walking towards him. He isn’t surprised to see Flash and his buddies Carl, Seymore, and Jake making their way towards him, but he is surprised to Charlie Murphy step in step with them. 

Charlie had been Peter’s friend before—everything.

But when Peter started struggling he didn’t talk to Charlie much.

Ned never mentioned Charlie hanging with that group, he ran in the same nerd groups as Peter and Ned so seeing him with Flash, Carl, Seymore, and Jake didn’t make sense.

“Aren’t you going to say ‘hi’ Parker? We missed you after all,” Carl sneers. 

The group chuckles at the comment. 

Peter doesn’t comment, cringing internally while tugging Karen closer to him. The dog seems to sense his unease and presses her nose into his stomach, her warm breath tickling him and drawing his attention to the spot rather then on the memories trying to claw at his mind. 

“So Parker,” Peter can hear the smirk in Seymore’s voice, “didn’t think we’d see you in the sophomore hall this fall. After vanishing last spring people thought you’d be repeating a year.”

Peter shrugs, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

His stomach twists.

Peter’s mind begins to drag up memories of his encounters with these boys.

He rubs his shoes against each other.

“So what illness did you tell people you have to get to into tenth grade without finishing freshmen?” Seymore continues.

Peter winces.

‘Illness’?

If these guys say that then everyone else must be saying the same thing.

Peter Parker, the boy with an illness.

He shifts his weight, pressing his back against the tree harder.

“So,” Seymore prompts, “how did you get into tenth grade?”

“I caught up over the summer,” Peter mutters, focusing on one rather long loose string on his shirt.

“Well,” Carl sighed, “what’s the deal? What happened?”

What happened?

What happened?

He lost it.

His traumas finally broke his brain.

That’s what happened.

Peter glances up slowly and sees all the boys watching and waiting.

He won’t tell them anything.

He can still hear the sneers, the comments, the cocky laughter from last school year from those guys in his mind.

No he won’t give them anything.

“What do you mean?” Peter decides to follow a question with a question.

Flash sighs and nudges Charlie. Peter’s old friend moves to the front of the group and bends down to eye level with Peter.

“Hey Pete,” Charlie gives a small smile.

Peter eyes his old friend, “Hey Charlie. When did—you know—” Peter gestures at the guys behind Charlie.

The other teen shrugs, “turns out we have more in common than I thought. It was lonely last spring so I had time to talk to others.”

Peter feels the knot in his stomach twists.

Charlie is hinting at Peter’s absence.

Guilt.

That’s the name of the cold twist in his chest at that thought.

“Sorry,” Peter mutters and turns his attention back to his loose string.

“It’s all good,” Charlie responds, “why don’t you tell what happened. Does it have to do with the dog?”

Peter glances up again. 

Charlie looks truly curious as he eyes Peter closely.

But the smirk Seymore has, Carl holding his phone out and watching Peter, Jake eyeing Karen, and Flash tapping his foot impatiently makes Peter realize what kind of people Charlie is now friends with.

_ you don’t have to tell anyone anything _ Peter hears the familiar voice in his head.

“I should get going,” Peter responds, latching the leash onto Karen.

“Come on Parker,” Carl sighs, “just tell us what is up.”

Peter stands, Karen moving with him, “I should get going,” Peter repeats, eyes landing on the lunchroom doors as his new destination.

“What’s her name?” Jake asks, hand reaching for Karen.

“Please don’t,” Peter gasps towards Jake.

Karen is quick though. She dodges Jake’s hand, coming to stand between Peter’s legs. She presses against him, his hand reaching down instinctively to touch her. 

Peter’s heart is racing.

He’s done.

He wants to be left alone.

The knot in his stomach twists even tighter, nausea filling his stomach.

“Dude,” Jake sighs, “I just wanted to pet her.”

“Please don’t,” Peter whispers.

“What did you say?” Jake demands.

“She’s working and I should go,” Peter responds a little louder.

Peter moves forward, Karen falling into place with him, body occasionally bumping his legs as a warm reminder she’s there for him as he walks past the other teens.

“Rude,” Flash snaps as Peter walks past, “think you’re special or something? You above us now Parker? Hey I’m talking to you!”

Peter keeps walking, hand tightening on the leash. 

The knot in his gut twists tighter.

He hears his heartbeat in his ears.

“Can’t believe I used to be his friend,” Peter hears Charlie say loudly in the distance.

Peter winces.

His eyes burn.

He wants to go somewhere.

Somewhere quiet.

Somewhere away from people.

Away from stares.

Away from questions.

He can feel his fragile resolve falling apart. 

“Hey Peter!”

Ned appears in the doorway waving at Peter.

“Hey I thought you were going out front with Karen,” Ned comments as Peter reaches the door.

“Didn’t work out,” Peter sighs.

“Dude you don’t look to good,” Ned eyes Peter from top to bottom, glancing behind Peter. “Flash’s crew bothering you?”

Peter shrugs.

“That’s not a yes or no Peter,” Ned frowns.

“they didn’t—I mean nothing bad. I just didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t want to answer their questions,” Peter mutters. 

“Want to go to the nurse?” Ned responds softly.

Peter shakes his head, “I want to finish the day.”

“Why don’t we go sit in the chem room?” Ned offers, “the bell will ring in ten minutes after all.”

Peter nods and lets Ned lead the way into the building, his eyes still on the floor.

As he tries to calm down his nerves with each breath, Peter can feel his breathing getting shorter. 

He thinks Ned doesn’t notice.

Until Ned stops walking, causing Peter to look up at his friend.

“Peter, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I—I just, I was fine, but now,” Peter shrugs.

“Now you’re not,” Ned finishes.

“I should be fine,” Peter groans, “just people saying things. Not even—even bad things. How am I going to get through life if I can’t even deal with people making small comments?”

“Peter,” Ned sighs, “it’s your first day back man, cut yourself some slack. It’ll get easier as time goes on.”

Peter rubs his hands together anxiously, “I—I guess so.” 

“Why don’t we take a break in the nurse’s office?”

“Why?” Peter snaps, “I’m—I’m not having, I can, you know—”

“Pete,” Ned cuts in, “not saying you can’t get through the day. The nurse’s office is a quiet place and you can close the curtains and take a moment by yourself. Nothing wrong with taking ten minutes or so to reset.”

Karen’s nose pushes at Peter’s hands, trying to separate them.

He gently pets her head.

“Fine,” he whispers, “fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not major bullying, but for some people the stress of talking to people can be just as bad as bullying
> 
> Also: Flash's friends are names of shady classmates in Spiderman comics of Peter's


	14. One last check-in

The plastic and metal chair creeks as Peter adjusts his position a second time, Karen’s warm body shifting on his feet to accommodate her handler. The silence in the nurse’s office is a bit offsetting with the voices outside the door from students moving up and down the hallway nearby. After Ned dropped off Peter, the other teen dashed off to get the nurse from the staff lounge as the note on the door indicated she had gone to lunch. Peter had told Ned he didn’t need to, but the other teen didn’t want to take any chances he claimed as he ran off. 

So Peter and Karen sit quietly. 

Peter works on calming his nerves and thinking happy thoughts in the silence.

Karen works on her nap.

Peter’s drawn from his thoughts at the sound of his phone going off. 

_ Half way through your day. Doing ok kid? _

** Mr. Stark? **

_ The one and only kid. You didn’t answer my question _

Peter thinks for a moment, trying to decide what to say.

** it’s…well…going. I mean, it’s school, not much to really report **

_ nobody giving you a hard time? _

** Just a couple comments but so far nothing I can’t handle **

Which isn’t a lie in Peter’s opinion. It was only a few comments from one staff and couple students who always bother him. Nothing he hasn’t handled before. Not like they sent him into a full blown panic or anxiety attack. Just made him uncomfortable.

Yeah.

Just uncomfortable.

_ well just remember you can always reach out if anything gets hard kid _

Peter wonders if the man is being serious or polite. If Mr. Stark really cares or if he is just putting up a front. 

The teen decides to not focus on that train of thought.

** Ok, thanks **

A thumbs up emoji is sent in response and Peter sets aside his phone after glancing at the time. He has a few more minutes before he needs to head to chemistry. He returns to taking deep breaths and thinking about anything but his classmates.

“Mr. Parker.”

The nurse, Miss Arrow, walks up to the teen and eyes him closely.

“Mr. Leeds said you weren’t feeling good?”

“I just needed a minute ma’am,” Peter responds.

“You sure? You do have special permission to leave early if you need to.”

Peter shakes his head. He wants to go to chemistry class. He also doesn’t want to appear weak by giving up half way through the day.

He was only uncomfortable.

He’s ok.

“I’m sure Miss Arrow, just needed a moment,” he reconfirms to her.

The woman nods slowly, “ok well you can stay here as long as you need to.”

“I think I’m doing ok now,” he cuts her off.

“If you say so. You can come back again if you change your mind,” she sits at her desk and after a final side eye at him, she jots down some notes. 

Not wanting to take up more time and make the nurse think he needs to go home, Peter rises and with Karen joining him, Peter leaves with one more reassurance he is going to be alright. 

Reassurances he gives to Ned who was waiting outside the room. 

By time he adds another round of reassurances outside of the chemistry room, Peter was feeling a small confidence boost. After saying he’s going to be alright so many times, he hears a little voice in his head saying “yes there is a chance that he’ll be alright”. 

Peter and Ned enter the lab room finding the majority of the class sitting and chatting idly. To Peter’s joy the back-corner table by the window is open, a spot he is very ok with. Setting on the stool after putting down a blanket for Karen to lay on under the table, Peter readies himself for one of his favorite subjects. 

A short, blonde woman walks into the room, placing her lunchbox under her desk. 

“Alright everyone, I’m Ms. Smith and welcome to AP Chemistry.”

The woman pulls out her attendance list, running through roll call smoothly and with a smile. She calls out Peter’s name, only pausing for a moment to glance around the tables and nod at Karen, before continuing through the list. 

She moves into the syllabus for the semester, not giving any more notice to Peter or Karen. 

And Peter didn’t mind.

Its alright for teachers to inform the other students. But it really felt nice to act as if he isn’t any different from the beginning of last school year. 

Peter’s class continues uneventful. Only a few glances from other students marked him as any different from the rest as Ms. Smith moves into the day’s lesson. 

And it isn’t just Ms. Smith. After that class Peter manages to have two more event free classes causing the teen to feel pretty confident to say his day is going well. His aunt and doctor managed to get him out of gym class for the semester so instead he was taking a photography class which to Peter’s shock ends up being more interesting then he anticipated earlier when he first saw his schedule. Plus he’s lucky enough to get into Tech and Engineering class with Ned with a teacher who seems to let the teens have “full creative reign as long as it doesn’t break any school rules or violate any safety plans.” 

The day even ends well when Peter learns that the Robotics Club has changed its policy and this year letting in Sophomores, rather then just Juniors and Seniors, so Peter’s excitement was mirroring Ned’s as the other teen talks animatedly about joining and building with Peter “something that will be better than a meme”. 

The conversation ends when Peter’s attention shifts to a waving hand in the line of parents picking up their kids. His Aunt May shouts a greeting to Ned as Peter loads up Karen into the car, then himself, and waving at his best friend one last time.

“So?”

Peter glances as his aunt as she pulls out onto the street, “So what?”

“Well tell me how the day went! Did you have classes with Ned? How did the teachers treat you? Did you enjoy the photography class more then gym? Come on Pete, give me something here.”

The teen can’t stop the smile taking over his face, “it went well. Some of the teachers made some statements to the other kids about leaving Karen alone. Lunch was, well, it took me a minute to adjust but it ended ok,” he was not going to mention Flash, Flash’s buddies, or the lady at the front desk. It was a little smug on his day, he’s ok. “and yes Aunt May, photography is going to be better than gym, and yes I have some classes with Ned.”

“Great! Do you think Karen had a good day?” 

Peter glances back at Karen who sits watching out the window, “yeah I think she liked it. I mean I did everything the men at the support group said to keep her comfortable, I took her on a break, and I made sure not to forget to praise her and…yeah…I think she was happy.”

“Ok good.”

They drive in silence for a moment.

“So who are you going to message first about today?”

“Message first?”

“Oh Peter, I know for a fact those men in that support group are waiting to hear about your first day. I mean they stated that multiple times last Saturday.”

Peter blushes, “they’re probably just being polite.”

“Oh? So none of them texted or called today?” she smirks at him.

Peter shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“Uh huh, thought so,” his aunt grins, “so maybe just think about making a quick statement to whoever messaged you that you’re alright and the day went ok.”

Peter pulls out his phone and stares at the chat for a moment. 

** day went alright if you were wondering **

** oh this is Peter **

** Parker **

The teen goes to tuck his phone away

“See that wasn’t so hard,” his aunt smiles. 

But before Peter can respond his phone chimes.

_ Great to hear kid! Wanna tell me more details or save it for group on Saturday? _ __

_ ** Probably group, that way I don’t have to say everything twice ** _

_ _ Well, unless Clint doesn’t pay attention….they you’ll have to say things twice _ _

_Peter snickers under his breath._

_ ** Sounds good Mr. Stark ** _

_ _ Keep me posted on your other days this week kid. I’m glad its going good. _ _

_Peter responds with a thumbs up emoji before putting his phone away._

_“Well you’re even more smiley now,” his aunt nudges him with her hand before returning it to the wheel, “glad to see it.”_

_Peter shrugs but keeps smiling as he glances out the window. _

_Things are going alright._

_He can do this._


	15. Subway, Loki, and Cheeseburgers

He is not ok.

He is far from ok.

Peter has the urge to just break down crying right this second.

The fact he is surrounded by dozens of strangers in a subway car keeps him from doing so, not wanting to draw even more attention to himself. Or worse someone calls the authorities about a crazy teen having a breakdown in public. 

No, Peter just had to silently tolerate this until his stop. He’s so close, he just needs to keep it all inside.

Peter’s day started off alright, in fact it was a perfectly good Saturday, and he had a pretty good first week of school. When his aunt told him she couldn’t drive him to the group meeting, Peter decided to take the subway himself. He needed to practice for when his aunt no longer drove him to school. 

And it was going fine.

An occasional kid would stop and wave at the “puppy” while occasional adults gave Peter and Karen a wide amount of space as if they are diseased. But nothing he couldn’t handle. Sure the subway was busy but its Saturday, its expected. But Peter got lucky after transferring lines and managed to get a seat before the next flood of people got on. Curled up against the side of the seat at the end, he only had one person sitting next to him instead of both sides.

So it was going fine.

Until she got on the subway car.

Karen is pressed up against Peter’s legs, her head resting in his lap while occasionally licking the boy’s hand. She is focused on him thankfully and trying to keep Peter calm as he slouches in on himself while scratching his arms.

Its all because of her.

Some older lady got on and sat down diagonal of Peter. Nothing special about her. Just someone going about her daily business.

Until Peter heard it.

A kissing noise followed by tongue clicking. 

Peter ignored it at first but after a while he looked up to find the older lady trying to gain Karen’s attention. 

With that Peter’s state went downhill. 

With every stop the lady become more obvious in her attempts to gain Karen’s attention.

She even tried offering crackers!

Peter couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t remember words. How does he tell her stop again?

With each passing minute Peter felt his body rebel against him. His stomach flip flopping. His head starting to hurt. His hands becoming sweaty but cold. His lungs struggling to take in air.

Karen saw this and focused on her handler. 

But Peter’s fear continued to gnaw at him. His stress over this lady making him uncomfortable. 

Several people have shot the woman dark glances.

But no one has offered to help. 

Just three more stops.

Peter tries to focus on that fact.

Just three more stops.

The train stops again, but the woman remains. She becomes silent as people get on and off. He doesn’t hear anything for a little while, but shortly after the train moves onward to the next stop the noise begins again.

Peter pants, trying to pet Karen. 

He feels it.

The itch.

He feels the tickle in his mind telling him to scratch a little harder on his legs.

Do that and the pain will make the bad feelings go away. 

So he just tries to focus on Karen.

“Hey old crone stop making weird noises and waving your food everywhere.”

Peter glances up at the voice that makes the comment. 

Standing between him and the lady’s gaze is Loki, Fenrir sitting silent by his side.

The old woman gasps, “how rude young man—”

“No,” Loki cuts her off, “you’re the rude one. His dog is working and you’re trying to distract her, that’s a major issue.”

“I wasn’t distracting the dog, I just wanted to feed it,” she snaps back.

Loki snorts, “the dog is working, he could end up hurt because of you.”

The woman goes to retort back but a second body steps in front of Loki. 

The tall, muscled body of Loki’s brother Thor moves towards the woman.

“Let us all calm down. My brother will leave you alone ma’am and you’ll leave our friend’s dog alone. All will be fine this way,” Thor’s deep voice echoed through the car and whoever wasn’t watch was looking now. 

The woman huffs but the buff blonde seems to have won the fight for she turns her focus on her phone she pulls from her bag. 

Loki only scoffs and shoots a look at his brother as the man holds onto a standing handle, blocking Peter’s view of the woman and others on the other side. 

Peter’s ok with that. 

“Brother,” Thor murmurs, “calm down.”

“Calm down,” Loki snaps, “she deserves all that and more for her disgusting behavior—”

“Loki, doing this won’t solve anything. Besides, I think Peter might want to spend more time talking with you rather then listening to you verbally fight with a stranger,” Thor cuts in. 

The dark haired teen glances down and finally meets Peter’s gaze.

Peter tries to hold the eye contact but can’t. Glancing down he continues petting Karen, trying to force the nausea to go away with his shallow breaths.

“Hey Peter,” Loki lowers his voice, “can I touch your shoulder?”

Peter nods.

Peter feel’s Loki’s hand squeezing his shoulder rhythmically.

“Focus on my squeezes,” Loki murmurs, “inhale with the first squeeze, exhale on the second.”

Peter focuses on the feeling. He breathes in with a squeeze. Exhales with the next. 

“Just one more stop,” Thor speaks quietly above Peter.

Peter only nods. 

Loki keeps squeezing Peter’s shoulder.

Thor keeps blocking the view.

He has one more stop.

He’s almost free.

As the train stops again, Peter feels a small noise of relief leave his mouth when he hears the words of his stop on the intercom.

“Let’s get out here,” Loki removes his hand from Peter.

As Peter moves to stand, Karen moves to be beside him, but ends up bumping his sweet girl when the world sudden spins as he reaches full upright position.

A big hand comes to rest on Peter’s back to support him, “I’m just going to put my hand here Peter,” Thor speaks quietly, “just for a few steps ok. I know you can walk fine but just for a few steps.”

Peter just nods and follows Loki out of the train car before they get stuck riding another stop with the lady.

Peter follows quietly behind Loki, Thor behind him with a bit of a guarding presence even after removing his hand. 

“Do you want to make any stops or go straight to the community center?” Thor asks from the back of the group. 

“Center,” Peter finally speaks. 

The group quietly makes it way the two blocks to the center where Loki just leads them inside and straight towards their room.

Peter doesn’t speak, doesn’t look up much beyond double checking the area. 

Thor follows quietly all the way up to the meeting room.

“You two going to be alright?” Thor asks once Loki open’s the door to the meeting room.

“We’ll be fine Thor, your such an overprotective twat,” Loki sighs.

“You love me for it,” Thor chuckles.

“Just keep telling yourself that,” his brother retorts. 

The exchange draws Peter to smile a little. He can see Loki smirk with sass and knows he means no harm with his words. Peter wonders if this something siblings do, if this is what he would’ve done if he had someone.

Thor pats Loki on the shoulder and then Peter, “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything. And that offer goes for you too Peter.”

The man waves as he leaves, Loki tugging on Peter to enter the room. 

“Uh oh, the master of mischief and baby genius are together, expect world domination by the end of the day,” Clint calls out from his spot at the snack table. 

“I’m kind of curious what that would look like,” Bruce responds as he sits in the circle.

“You would,” Clint rolls his eyes, “you science geeks would find that interesting.”

“Hey now,” Mr. Stark leans forward in his chair, “I’m a science geek but I think I’ll pass on teenage world domination.”

“For now,” Rhodey snorts as he sips his coffee by Mr. Stark. 

“Well now that we’re all here,” Sam gestures to the teens taking seats, “lets get started.”

Peter sits between Loki and Bucky, still finding it hard to look up beyond his feet. 

His mind whirls with all the possibilities on how he could have handled the subway better. All the choices he could have made but didn’t. 

“I have something to share,” Loki quickly jumps in, “some a-hole decided to harass Peter on the subway today.” 

The circle was filled with collected moans and gasps in frustration for their youngest member. 

“You alright?” Bucky quietly asks. 

Peter only shrugs, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“This b—” Loki pauses as Sam shoots him a glance “witch was making noises and trying to give Karen food on the subway. Probably for quite awhile before Thor and I got on with the way Peter was acting.”

Peter focuses on rubbing his thumbs together quietly.

“Are you alright Peter?” Bruce asks softly, trying to draw the boy’s attention.

“I’m alright,” Peter murmurs back when he looks up at the man, “I’m okay.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark draws the teen’s gaze, “you’re crying.”

The teen touches his face, moisture tickles the ends of his fingers.

Mr. Stark moves from his chair and kneels in front of Peter and Karen, who is watching her handler closely.

“Come on kid, tell me what’s in that noggin,” the man requests gently. 

“I-I, she—but I,” Peter sucks in a shaky breath, “I know how, I know what to say, I just, I couldn’t—I froze and she, she, I felt—and, and—” to Peter’s horror the sob he was trying to keep inside himself since the lady started being annoying on the subway, squeezes out his lips loudly. 

“Awe Peter,” Clint responds gently in a tone of voice that reminds Peter of Ben when he used to go to the man for comfort after nightmares.

This causes Peter’s tears to increase again.

“I should,” Peter begins again, “I know how, to say, but I couldn’t.”

The teen’s hands shake and ache, he wants to hit his legs or dig his nails in or something. The tickle earlier now seems to be a full on desire. 

“Peter,” Mr. Stark reaches out and holds onto his shaking hands, “list to me buddy. We all freeze up. Heck people without dogs freeze up over different social interaction with strangers. There is nothing wrong with that. I mean look at me.”

With a sniffle, Peter eyes the man, “I am.”

Mr. Stark smirks and squeezes Peter’s hands, “then you know who I am and my reputation. When I first introduced Friday and had to talk about me needing her due to my heart problems, well, I froze. Pepper Potts had to do most of the talking at that press conference.”

“But,” Peter frowns, “that was a big press conference. This was just one old lady on a train.”

“So you’re saying I’m justified to freeze up?” Mr. Stark sighs.

Peter nods.

Bruce speaks up, “I froze up yesterday at the grocery check out when a teen kept doing a swipe by.”

“Swipe by?”

“You know,” Bruce gestures, “walking close and your hand ‘just happens’ to brush the dog. The teen went down three of the same aisles as me just to do a swipe by. But I didn’t feel comfortable to confront them.”

“What happened?”

“I went home and had a breakdown, called Tony to calm down, and then went to bed. No matter how long you have your dog, there will always be those moments where you freeze or struggle and that’s ok.”

Peter nods slowly. 

“Besides,” Loki cut in, “sometimes confronting people doesn’t always work out.”

“Says the kid who confronts people a bit aggressively,” Clint mutters.

“Watch it birdbrain,” Loki snaps. 

“See,” Clint smirks.

Loki just shakes his head and looks toward Peter, “he a little right,” the other teen murmurs, “just because I respond to people like that doesn’t mean I do it the right way.” 

Peter offers a small smile at the other boy before turning his attention back to Mr. Stark.

“You feeling better Underoos?”

The teen nods and the man gives one last squeeze before returning to his own seat.

For a moment there was silence, but Clint is first to break it as he launches into a story about his kids going back to school that week. Peter tries to keep up with the topics as they switch between each person speaking, but it’s a struggle.  
With the nausea and headache gone, his hand now stable, and his desires to scratch his legs dying down to its normal whisper in the back of his head Peter felt tired.

No not tired.

Exhausted. 

And all he did was ride the subway.

“Hey buddy, you with me?”

Peter blinks back into focus to find Mr. Stark standing before him while the others are picking up the chairs.

“We’re done?”

“Yep,” the man pops the ‘p’ but Peter can see the concern in his eyes, “why don’t we let Sam grab your chair and Karen’s bed, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Oh you don’t have—”

“Stop right there Underoos. I don’t have to but I want to. And if I don’t give you a ride I’m sure one of the other guys might. Or worse, Thor will take the subway all the way to Queens with you.”

Peter snickers.

“He’s serious Peter,” Loki adds, “Thor already texted me to say if you don’t get a ride home, he’s riding all the way to Queens with you.”

“So there’s your choice,” Mr. Stark adds, “either ride with one of the other guys, take the subway with Thor, or let me drop you off.” The man leans down, “and my ride is way better then theirs,” he mock whispers.

“Heard that!” Clint calls.

“Says the man with the mom van,” Mr. Stark retorts.

“Its an SUV!”

“I’ll um, well, I guess,” Peter glances around to see everyone watching him for the decision, “I guess I can ride with you Mr. Stark.”

The man nods and pulls out his sunglasses, “well then kid, lets get a move on.”

With that, Mr. Stark guides Peter out of the room, the teen’s footsteps still feeling a little heavy as he walks through the building to the parkinglot where the man’s audi sits. But rather then go to the car where Mr. Stark’s driver waits, the man draws Peter over to a second audi.

“Rhodey has to go to the meeting upstate so Happy is going to take him. You and me are going to ride in this one.”

Karen and Friday load up into the back of the car together, Peter taking passenger. As the car rolls out of the parkinglot Mr. Stark finally speaks up again.

“So kiddo aside from giving you a ride I wanted to talk to you and your aunt about something.”

“W-what?” Peter tried not to sound worried.

“Oh nothing crazy. I’m putting together a science club or camp or I don’t know what to call it, that’s Pepper’s job. Anyway, Pepper’s doing up the details but I’m looking into picking certain kids to attend. It isn’t a long thing, nothing that you have to commit to for weeks on end. Just since the first event will be a test run for a bigger program so we don’t plan on charging for it or make it a scholarship competition.”

“That sounds interesting,” which is true yet with vague details Peter isn’t sure how else to respond.

“Well Pepper make a little print out she wants me to give the parents and guardians of the kids I’m interested in so I want to give that to your aunt and run it by her if you’re interested. So?”

“So what?”

“Are you interested in doing a little science club for a couple days under the guidance of myself and a few specially selected instructors?”

Peter glances at the man.

A small instructional time with SI’s most brilliant minds? Hand picked by Tony Stark himself? Actually something he doesn’t have to ask Aunt May to pay for? Peter is definitely interested.

“I’m interested sir.”

“Good, good. Oh are you hungry for lunch?”

The sudden topic switch causes Peter to finally grin at the man.

“I’ll take that smile as a yes. I know a diner with the best cheeseburgers ever, your aunt won’t mind us taking a pit stop?”

“She won’t be home for a couple more hours,” Peter answers.

“Perfect. We eat and by then we’ll get you home in time for your aunt to arrive so I can talk shop with her.”

“Sound good Mr. Stark.”

The car takes a turn and heads towards Manhattan rather then Queens with Peter feeling a lot better then earlier. 

He’s definitely feeling ok now.


	16. A helping hand

The rhythmic clinking of Karen’s tags tapping together draws Peter’s attention from his scrutiny of the clouds floating above him in the sky. The lab scratches lazily at her ears before yawning and laying back down on her blanket beside his large blue one. The afternoon sun warms Peter’s skin even from behind the clouds, it’s a nice September day, still feeling the warmth of summer but the cool breeze of fall growing more noticeable each day. Despite being the afternoon in the middle of the week, Peter’s not at school and instead camped out on the roof of the apartment complex his aunt and him live in. 

He had felt guilty earlier that morning. When he sat all sweaty and twitchy on the couch, watching each hour tick by and the sun slowly rise, his aunt took one look at him when she got up and called the school to say he wasn’t coming in. She hadn’t waited for him to protest, he tried to though. He got off the couch and got breakfast for himself and Karen. He took his medicines with a cheery smile. He even got out stuff for his aunt’s lunch to prove he could get through the day. But somehow she saw through all of that, the act he was putting on, the motions he was going through emptily. She even tried to call off on her work shift, that Peter managed to deter her from. He was able to convince her that between Karen, his meds, and staying in the apartment that she can go for a few hours to work. 

She did.

After she locked up every sharp or potentially harmful object in the house. 

He didn’t see her to do.

But he heard her move things from the bathroom to her bedroom, the silverware drawer opening and closing to many times for normal, the sounds of her muttering to herself. Peter usually has a fit about her doing this, arguing that the few non-plastic items they have out don’t need to be moved. He usually rants about how far he’s come, that for them to move on they need to trust each other. 

But not today.

Today he sits hearing the noises but doesn’t protest. There’s no point. He knows arguing will probably cause her to stay home. He knows arguing will only make the morning worse for both of them.

Besides, it takes to much energy to do something like that.

He doesn’t have that kind of energy. 

He feels to empty. 

All because of last night.

Peter can’t remember the dream, but some dream jolted him awake at the early hours and since then he’s been unable to fall back to sleep or even just focus. Like he’s in a haze, the world is moving on but he’s stuck inside a bubble making the world muffled and separate to him. 

Like when he first started taking medication.

But that was so long ago and he started feeling this way before he even took his morning rounds. 

So he doesn’t know why he feels so empty, but he does. Nothing seems to interest him, everything that is normally fun to do isn’t really sounding fun to do, even going down and eating lunch doesn’t sound really alluring despite his stomach twinging and signally it needs food. 

Peter’s phone begins to sing beside his head.

It’s his aunt’s ringtone.

It takes all the teen’s energy to lift his arm and take the phone to his ear.

“Hey Aunt May,” he sighs into the phone.

** Hey babe, you’re still sounding a little off **

“Still feeling…well…I don’t. I’m sorry.”

** No, no don’t apologize. The doctors said days like these would still happen from time to time. Have you been able to get up and do anything? **

“I did take a shower and ate a couple crackers.”

** Good, little steps are still steps in the right direction. Are you back on the couch? **

“No, I took the picnic blankets to the roof. I’m up here laying.”

There is a pause as Peter listens to his aunt process what he’s just said to her.

** Peter, are you, are you being safe? **

“Yeah, I’m safe.”

** Peter I’ll be home in a couple hours but, well, Peter can I call someone to come sit with you? I know you’re a teenager but, well, sweetie it would make me feel calmer here at work if you’d let me do this. Please Peter **

Peter hums into the phone, “I don’t care. Do what you want.”

** Ok, ok. Just let me make a call. Please Peter, just lay there and enjoy the sun for a moment. **

“Ok aunt May,” he responds. 

Getting up and doing something sounds like to much work. 

Turning off his phone, Peter drops it beside his head and closes his eyes as the sun peeks out from behind a cloud.

Gawd he feels so empty.

Maybe if he exhales hard enough his soul will puff out of his mouth and float up into the clouds. If he was up there then he could stare at the city from above. It’s probably a great view from up in the clouds. He could then float up into space, float away into the great beyond.

Just float away and leave all his problems behind.

But he’d also leave May behind. 

Maybe he should try floating away. 

But if he stays he’ll keep feeling empty and he hates feeling empty as much as he hates when everything makes him anxious and trigger his overthinking. 

Peter suddenly hears the sound of tags jingling against each other.

But the sound is off.

Those aren’t Karen’s tags.

Where is that coming from?

“Peter,” a hushed voice comes from near his head. 

The teen opens his eyes to find Mr. Anthony Stark leaning over him with a worried look and flushed cheeks.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hey kid,” the man smiles and shifts to sit next to Peter. 

Peter rolls onto his side with what feels like a lot of effort, “Mr. Stark? How’d you get here?”

Mr. Stark has Friday lay between his and Peter’s legs, the man eyeing the teen carefully.

“Well your hot aunt gave me a call—”

“Eww,” Peter snorts.

“Said you weren’t feeling a 100% today and she was looking for someone to hang out with you till she comes home.”

“But, you’re so far away,” Peter responds.

“I’m right here Underoos.”

“No, you don’t live here.”

“Ah I see, well kiddo your aunt called like 35 minutes ago and I had Happy drive me here. We may have broken a few laws on the way here,” the man chuckles.

“Oh,” Peter responds and rolls onto his back again.

Peter didn’t realize so much time had passed as he thought about floating and space. It didn’t seem like that much time went by. Strange. 

“Peter, buddy, are you, by chance, are you dissociating?” 

The teen frowns, “I, not, I don’t think so? I’m here. I’m not floating out there,” he waves his hand at the sky, “I’m hearing. I’m seeing. I’m responding. I’m just, I don’t know, stuck? Nothing sounds fun. Nothing sounds interesting. I don’t want to do anything.”

The man hums with a sound that makes Peter think he isn't convinced. But Mr. Stark doesn't force the topic, “Ok, ok, I can work with that. How about we start with you sitting up? You think you can find the energy to sit up?”

The teen shrugs. 

Then nods.

With a grunt and what feels like more effort then it should, he sits up.

“Great job kiddo, now I brought some sandwiches and water. Think you can take a couple bites for me?”

Peter shifts to face the man, accepting a rather sizable ham and cheese sandwich from him. He takes two bites and chews, even that feels oddly slow.

“How’s it taste kid?”

“Fine, like a ham and cheese sandwich.”

“Good. I was picking up lunch when I got the call so I was worried the food wouldn’t taste as good once I got here.”

Peter nods. 

That’s nice of Mr. Stark.

The man took time out of his day to answer a phone call from someone less important then them. He drove from Manhattan, well he was chauffeured from Manhattan. The man bought lunch for Peter on the way. Now he sits on a dirty rooftop in Queens with an emotionless, motivationless teenager.

_ Holy sh** _

Peter’s brain suddenly comes back online, the empty nothingness now filled with racing thoughts. 

Mr. Stark drove across the city for him! Bought food for him! A random teenager who he’s only met a handful of times.

Peter’s breath comes short and fast. 

His heart picks up its slow pace into a fast rush.

Mr. Stark said he broke laws driving here. That means he broke the law for Peter. If the man was caught, it’d be Peter’s fault.

Oh gawd, what has he done? He’s caused trouble, he couldn’t focus his mind and was a zombie which caused his aunt to panic and now Mr. Stark went out of his way. Oh no, Ned might panic too now that Peter never contacted him about being absent. Why does he have to be such a problem? How is he going to apologize? Should he repay Mr. Stark? Should he do something for everyone? What should he say?

_ …burden…problem…causing trouble…your fault….why can’t you be normal?...._

The thoughts echo through Peter’s head. He needs to make them go away, make the thoughts quiet so he can think. He needs to think! Why can’t he think straight? The thoughts need to go away. But he needs to think. What to do? Oh gawd what to do?

Pain begins to fill his head.

The thoughts are becoming quieter.

“PETER PARKER!”

The teen’s attention finally snaps back to the present.

Panting the teen finds Mr. Stark kneeling and holding him.

No not him.

His hands.

Karen’s head is bumping roughly against Peter’s arms and elbows, her body between him and Mr. Stark which keeps the man at arm’s length. 

Peter’s hands are buried in his hair, he can feel the familiar sting: he was pulling his hair again.

When did he start doing that?

“Peter, please,” the man calls to him, “please let go of your hair.”

Slowly Peter’s finger uncurl and release the brown waves. 

Karen quickly lays on his lap, covering the teen’s hands once they sit on his thighs, and continues to press herself into his stomach with her weight.

Peter’s eyes burn.

Now he’s really done it.

On top of everything else Mr. Stark now had to see him come close to losing control and self-harming again. He didn’t mean to. It just happens sometimes when he’s to lost in his head. That’s why he has Karen. 

But Mr. Stark saw.

“I, I,” Peter tries to speak but coughs around the lump in his throat. 

“It’s ok kid, I’m not mad,” the man murmurs, “you’ll be alright. I think you’ve been checked out and now you checked in which overwhelmed you. At least that’s what I think, I’m not a doctor though.”

Peter glances up with watery eyes, “yes you are,” he whispers.

The man hears him and chuckles, “well not that kind of doctor kiddo.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers.

“Hey no apologizing,” Mr. Stark pushes Peter’s hair back out of the teen’s eyes, “I’m not allowed to apologize for getting worked up and needing my heart medication, you’re not allowed to apologize for getting worked up and needing a little guidance from Karen.”

“But—”

“No but’s kid,” the man cuts him off, “whatever thoughts are going on in there,” he taps Peter’s temple rhythmically, “tell them to run along because they’re wrong.”

“How do you know?”

Mr. Stark smiles, “I may not know you as well as some of my friends, but I know Peter Parker enough to make that guess. But go ahead and tell me what you were thinking if you feel I’m wrong.”

There is a pause for a moment, Peter’s hands relaxing under Karen’s body, his stressed muscles finally calming down.

“That I’m stressing May out because I woke up wrong,” Peter begins to voice the thoughts, “that you changed your day because of me. That you spent money on food for me. That you broke driving laws because of me. Now you had to see me breakdown, you probably think I’m some kind of sick freak who enjoys harming themselves. Or at least don’t want to be seen with someone who is known to compulsively self-harm during panic attacks. All of this is because I can’t get my crap together—”

Mr. Stark makes a buzzer noise, stopping Peter’s thoughts and words. 

“As I said, not good thoughts. First off: your aunt isn’t stressed, she’s just worried. That’s what family does: worry. Whether you have some special circumstances or are as boring as some Joe Shmoo on the street, she’ll always worry. Second off: you didn’t ruin my day. I literally am the boss of my own company, well actually Pepper is, but I’m high enough on the totem pole that I can come and go pretty freely. Third off: I was already at the sandwich joint when your aunt called, getting you food was easy and besides: I’m a billionaire, I can afford a five-dollar sandwich easily kid. And listen kid because I want you to hear this: no one has their shit together kid, no one. Heck I barely have myself together and I’m a grown adult with helpers and a service dog for my heart. I still manage to fudge up on a regular basis, that’s life.”  


Peter’s staring at Karen’s dark fur when a finger touches Peter’s chin, drawing the boy’s eyes back up to the man’s gaze.

“And you are not some kind of sick freak. I don’t know what all you’ve been through, but I can tell they were big things. Yes you survived with some not-so-healthy coping skills but you have stepped up and are working to heal and move on with your life. I can say without a doubt that no matter what happens Peter Parker, I will never see you anything less than a genius teenager that loves science pun t-shirts who is a strong survivor.”

For a moment Peter processes what was said.

He wipes away the tears coming from his eyes. 

He accepts the words from the man he idolizes, absorbing them and pushing them into the forefront his mind.

“I broke my record,” Peter finally moans sadly as he places his head onto Karen’s body.

“What record?”

“How long I go without hurting myself during an attack.”

“Well you know what that will happen. My track record for remembering my heart meds was awful for the first year, I mean we are talking only a few days. Rhodey got be a cake and balloons the first time I remembered my meds for a full week. So trust me, this stuff takes time kid, for everyone. Heck Bruce broke his track record just yesterday in fact! I was sitting on some hotel balcony with him eating donuts listening to him moan about having another major panic attack in public—”

“Panic attack?”

“Oh,” Tony’s eyes widen, “I guess not everyone has told you. Well Bruce has got some problems with panic attacks that cause him to be, well, less rational. Hulk has helped a lot, but he still has his days.”

“Are you allowed to tell me this?”

“I’d normally say it’s not my story to tell but I know Bruce, he’d want you to know if it helps you.” 

Peter shifts his arms under Karen again, a little nervous with this knowledge and unsure what to do with it. 

“I get these moments,” Peter finally speaks up, “sometimes its because I get anxious and worried over things, I just wind myself up and next thing I know my body is breaking down and I feel like I'm falling into some kind of dark pit inside myself. When that happens I don't always react rationally when trying to get out of that pit. But," he pauses to take a breath, "there are times where I'm fine and suddenly it hits me, out of nowhere I start breaking down and falling into that pit. It's frustrating."

“Bruce is a bit like that too,” Mr. Stark murmurs.

There is silence for a second, Mr. Stark poking at his phone for a few moments before returning his gaze to the boy.

“So I just sent some texts and well if you’re feeling up to it Bruce would love for you to come over to his lab. I was planning to go and check in with him and I think that maybe the two of you should talk together.”

Peter snorts, “My freak out didn't scare you off?”

“Nah kid. I used to get those too, heck sometimes I still get them. But I think Bruce can offer more advice then I can. I used unhealthy coping skills with my anxiety for the longest time and I definitely don’t want you copying those.”

“Oh.”

“So we can gather up your stuff here and switch it for Karen’s gear downstairs. That is if you’re up for it.”

Peter glances back at the sky for a moment.

He doesn’t feel empty now. 

But he feel jittery. He needs to move. He needs to shift. He needs let out the rest of his energy.

Maybe crash after that.

A nap later sounds good.

But first he needs to move and expel that left-over energy.

“Yeah, I’d like to go. I need to call May first.”

“Already texted her,” Mr. Stark holds up his phone, “and she said yes. So did Bruce. That means its time to clean up and gear up kiddo. Ready?”

Peter watches the man stand and offer a hand to the teen to help Peter up.

Peter pauses for a second, a second guess passing through his thoughts.

It disappears as Mr. Stark just smiles down at Peter.

Peter pushes away the thoughts.

Then accepts the helping hand.


	17. Panic and Pep talks

Peter’s leg jiggles rapidly every few minutes, foot bouncing on the car floor and battling against the weight of Karen’s body on his lap. Karen remains in a passive protection and alert state but doesn’t intervene, letting her handler work his anxious and nervous ticks out safely under her careful watch.

Mr. Stark and his driver Happy don’t mention the leg movements.

Or Peter petting Karen rhythmically and continually. 

Or the occasional stuttering breaths Peter takes as the car passes through New York city suburb by suburb. 

Both adults attempted to engage Peter at the start of the journey but the boy struggled to focus on what’s being said to him. The two men decide to talk to each other, hoping the random conversation between them comforts the boy in some way. 

When the car rolls closer to the city center, Stark Industries Tower becoming closer to them, Peter’s fidgeting increases.

Its when the car rolls into the underground garage path that Mr. Stark finally reaches over and takes Peter’s hand.

“Hey kid, relax. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re just going to check in on Bruce, maybe talk about his projects, if we get to the heavy stuff then we get to it. If we don’t then that’s fine too. Just take a breath with me ok? Follow my breathing.”

Mr. Stark does over exaggerated inhales and exhales, Peter squeezing the man’s hand and trying to imitate the breathing pattern. 

“There you go buddy, no need to get lost in those thoughts, everything is alright,” Mr. Stark murmurs quietly over and over to Peter while breathing loudly between statements. 

When Happy gets out of the car, opening Mr. Stark’s door, Peter gives a small nod to the two men.

“I-I think I’ve got it,” he tries to reassure them as he opens his own door and exits the fancy silver audi.

Peter and Karen don’t stand beside the car alone for long, Mr. Stark quickly loops around the vehicle and takes up residence on the side without Karen. 

“Ok buddy, we’ll hit up the private elevator and then take a break on one of my favorite couches.”

“Why’s it your favorite?”

“Because its super comfy and spill proof, I’ve dropped so much stuff on that thing and it’s still looking pretty decent.” 

“So you’re assuming I’m messy?”

“No, that means the dogs can get on it without us having to clean their paws,” the man laughs. 

Mr. Stark places a gentle hand on Peter’s back, nudging the teen forward. They pass expensive car after expensive car, coming to a silver door that opens to reveal a very normal looking elevator.

Except once the doors close Peter sees no panel or buttons to indicate where the box is to go. 

“Jarvis, take us up to Doctor Banner,” Mr. Stark speaks to the walls.

“As you wish sir.”

The British voice surprises Peter, the teen looks around for the source.

“That’s my AI Jarvis,” Mr. Stark chuckles, “he helps run things around here.”

The elevator moves upward as Peter nods, still looking for the source.

“The cameras are integrated subtly,” Mr. Stark points out a small lens in the décor etchings that go around the whole top of the elevator. 

“That’s really cool Mr. Stark.”

“Cool? Well not quite the word I would go with but I’ll take it,” the man laughs.

“Doctor Banner is currently in the shared living room,” the British voice—Jarvis speaks again, “he is anticipating your arrival.”

Peter’s heartrate shoots up in speed at the words.

He shouldn’t be getting anxious. He’s talked to Doctor Banner before. He’s talked to Mr. Stark before. Sure he’s never been in the well known Stark Industries Tower, but he can’t see much from an elevator. 

Yet the whole ride over he felt it growing, the twisting pain in his stomach, the constant movements, the nervousness over ridiculous nonsense. 

His heart is racing, squeezing painfully in his chest, as if he just ran the speed test in P.E. or just saw a scary horror film. 

Something’s wrong. He feels like something is wrong.

But nothing is wrong. He’s in an elevator. Mr. Stark is looking at his phone. Friday and Karen sit beside their handlers quietly. He’s ok to be here in the tower.

He feels it though, something isn’t right.

Peter grits his teeth, trying to breathe deep and evenly, focusing on trying to count the lines that make up the panels of the elevator floor. 

It isn’t working.

Unlike earlier, there’s no thoughts dragging him to a dark place. Rather his empty mind fixates on his heart speeding up, the twinges down his spin, the urge to drop to the floor and rock his body.

He tries to fight it.

Its getting harder with each second that passes.

Karen’s whining, he hears it over his heartbeat. 

It’s getting harder to breathe.

He keeps trying to take deep breaths, but they get shorter each time.

Peter bumps loudly against the elevator wall as Karen stands against him on her back legs, her fur blurring out the silver of the elevator panels he was focusing on.

“Sh** kid,” Mr. Stark’s voice filters through the noise in Peter’s ears. “Just another few seconds bud, you can sit down in just a few seconds.”

Peter feels a warm object press down on his shoulders. 

An arm?

The elevator stops with a jerk, Karen drops from Peter’s view which is now blurry even though he knows his glasses are on his face.

The weight on his shoulders guides him forward, Karen’s familiar weight pressing against Peter’s calf and knee. 

“Sit down kid,” Mr. Stark murmurs as Peter feels a surface tap against the back of his legs.

But he doesn’t want to sit. 

He needs to move.

He needs to leave.

He needs to go.

Go where?

He doesn’t know, he needs—he needs—

Peter doesn’t know what he needs.

He tries to walk away, body swaying, breath catching, heart racing. 

A heavy weight hits his body forcing him to take a few steps back. 

Karen.

She pushes him again.

Peter falls but lands on a soft surface, Karen getting on top of his body.

For a moment he sees her, he feels here, he hears her.

But the sound of his racing heart and gasping breathes block that out quickly. 

The need to escape hits him.

He starts shaking his legs, his feet rubbing against a surface.

He tries to roll to the side.

He can’t.

Something heavy on his torso keeps him in place.

Something rough is hitting his face.

Karen.

She’s licking him and weighing him down.

“…You’re doing so good Peter,” a voice filters into his ears, “just breathe in and out buddy.”

“Peter,” a second voice speaks quietly, “you’re at the Tower with me, Bruce, and Tony. You’re on a couch in a living room. You’re safe Peter. You’re safe.”

Peter tries to vocalize, the sound coming from him more of a moan then a hum.

“So good Peter,” Mr. Stark murmurs, “you’ve got enough air to vocalize. Now take another breath in, now let it out. Great job kid.”

There is a pause in the voices.

He hears his breathing and heart again.

He doesn’t like it.

“Peter, Peter, listen to me,” Bruce’s voice pushes past the noise to Peter’s ears, “you feel the weight on you? That’s Karen. Can you reach up and touch Karen? I know you can do it Peter.”

Slowly he raises his hands and they become buried into the warm fur of Karen that he easily recognizes. 

“Great job kiddo!” Mr. Stark murmurs, “good job, you feel that? That’s Karen. She’s laying on you and licking your face.”

Peter feels it, the rough tongue combing his face rhythmically. 

He hears his breathing lessen in his ears.

“Good job kid, your breathing is getting better,” Mr. Stark cheers Peter on quietly. “And your legs are settling down! Look at you just bringing yourself back to the present, so good kid.” 

“Peter,” Bruce’s voice enters again, “I’m going to put my hand in yours. I want you to try squeezing it when you can focus past the thoughts and on our voices.”

Peter feels something warm in his right hand.

He can now hear someone counting to ten over and over in a steady voice.

“Good job Peter, concentrate on your breathing buddy,” Mr. Stark murmurs.

Peter’s hand on Karen begins to hug her gently to him. Her licking slows down, he feels her head nudging at his chin.

He squeezes his other hand.

“Great job Peter,” Bruce stops counting, “I’m so glad you can hear us now.”

The teen tilts his head, opening his eyes now that he realizes they’ve been shut for some time. 

Both Bruce Banner and Mr. Stark kneel beside him, both watching quietly with unreadable expressions.

“Hey there kid,” Mr. Stark leans forward more, rubbing a hand along Peter’s arm, “nice to see those brown eyes again.”

“Peter,” Bruce catches the boy’s attention, “squeeze my hand when you’re ready to sit up and we’ll move back for you.”

Peter gives a small nod but continues to hold Karen and Bruce’s hand for a little bit longer.

Finally he squeezes the man’s hand and the two adults shift back as Peter struggles to sit up. 

Karen dislodges herself from his chest but takes residence on his legs while watching him closely. 

Peter takes a few deep breaths and rolls his shoulders.

The last bit of energy he felt earlier that he needed to get rid of is now gone. He summons what he has left to address his sweet girl.

“Release Karen,” he states.

Karen jumps from his lap onto the floor, tail wagging in anticipation.

Peter can’t help but smile as he bestows verbal praises and physical love on his sweet and smart girl. 

“Can someone get me my bag,” Peter points to his back as he clears his throat to make his voice sound better, “I seem to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’ve got it kid,” Mr. Stark lifts a familiar small bag, handing it to Peter.

Peter pulls out some treats and passes them to Karen while praising her.

Peter swings his legs around and sits appropriately on the couch, facing the two adults and their dogs who sit watching from a distance. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter can only sigh. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“There is no reason to apologize Underoos,” Mr. Stark quickly responds as he hands Peter a bottle of water that seems to have come from nowhere in Peter’s opinion. The teen accepts the beverage with a sad smile. 

“I agree,” Bruce adds, “there is no reason to apologize. I fully understand, sometimes the triggers make sense but there are the times where it just hits you. That’s just the way panic attacks work.”

Mr. Stark stands, “I’m going to get you a quick snack.”

Peter’s stomach rolls at the idea.

“Nothing to heavy Tony,” Bruce adds, “pick something off my list.”

“Got it,” the man walks away, disappearing around a corner which Peter assumes is a wall that separates the kitchen from the living area. 

Peter sighs and flops his head back onto the couch, “I’m ruining things,” he mutters.

“Absolutely not Peter,” Bruce gets up and sits beside the teen, “you’re not ruining anything. If you arrived in the elevator and found me kneeling on the floor in the middle of an attack, would I be ruining your visit to the tower?”

Peter grimaces, “well, no.”

“Then neither are you, nothing is ruined, just a delay in starting anything.” 

“Doctor Banner—”

“Bruce.”

“Bruce. Does it ever get any easier?”

Peter hears the man hum as the teen continues his scrutiny of the lofted ceiling.

“That’s a tricky question to answer. Some people gain control of their triggers and gain some control of their attacks. Others, like myself, have attacks that are unrelated to any trigger, well it gets easier in a sense that our routine with dealing with an attack becomes memorized which makes it seem easier to deal with despite the frequency not always changing. I’ve met people who stop having attacks, I’ve met people who have had them for most of their lives, it isn’t something that can be predicted.”

Peter sighs, “You sound like my therapist. Every person is different. Every panic attack is different. It’s impossible to predict the future for anyone.”

“Your therapist is smart,” Bruce smiles.

“I hope so, I’ve been seeing them since I was five,” Peter snorts. 

“Five?” Bruce gasps, “why so young? Where you having panic attacks at that age!?”

“Oh no,” Peter shakes his head, “no, I originally started seeing the therapist for my separation anxiety. My parents went on a vacation but ended up dying on the trip,   
after that my behavior at school and at home got so bad because of my separation anxiety that my aunt and uncle were told to put me in therapy or I’d have to get sent to a special school for my behaviors. I got better, I mean sure sometimes I freak out if my aunt doesn’t message me that she’s going to be really late from work or something but it isn’t like it used to be. I was out of therapy for a few years which was nice, my uncle got to cut back on his work hours since he didn’t need to pay for the sessions anymore. Well until Skip.”

Peter sips his water. He isn’t sure why he’s saying all of this. These are things his family and doctors know but that’s it. 

It’s as if the exhaustion that has finally hit him has taken his thoughts to words filter offline. 

But its like a hole in a hose, he can’t stop himself.

“Skip? Who’s Skip?” Mr. Stark asks as he enters the room, placing crackers and waters on the table.

Bruce scoops up some crackers, handing half to Peter and nibbling on the ones he kept.

“Oh ah,” Peter bites a cracker, “just someone in my past,” he shrugs.

“Someone who caused you to end up in therapy,” Bruce frowns.

“Some school bully?” Mr. Stark asks.

Peter shakes his head, “there are always school bullies, its like a right of passage in my opinion. But no he isn’t one bullies me.”

“Bullies?” Bruce asks, “present tense?”

Peter shrugs, “I go to high school Bruce, there’s going to be bullying no matter what. But no, Skip wasn’t a bully. Might have been easier to deal with if he had been.”

“If he didn’t bully you, what did this kid do to you?” Mr. Stark frowns.

Peter sips his water.

Part of him wants to say it.

Part of him feels if he says the words then these two men will think Peter is more broken then he is.

Or worse.

That he’s dirty.

“Can you, just,” Peter waves his hand, “search the name Steven Wescott online. I can’t, I want to, but it’s, I just,”

“Hey,” Mr. Stark moves and sits beside the teen, “we will stop asking. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

“But I want to,” Peter looks at the man with watery eyes, “my therapist says I should talk about it and I want to but I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Bruce probes.

“That you two will think I’m broken or dirty.”

Peter knows these men are geniuses. Smart in the academic areas. But they appear smart in the area of common sense too as both men process the words, connect dots, and their eyes widen with shocked horror.

“Peter,” Bruce leans in, “I’m going to ask but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, how old were you and this Skip?”

Peter looks at his hands as they pet Karen’s head laying on his knees, “eleven. I was eleven and Skip was seventeen. It only happened for a month but, well, I some problems with my anxiety after that so I ended up back at my therapist’s office.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark rubs the teen’s shoulders, “you don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

“I, I think I want to,” Peter looks at the man, “I’ve held this in for so long. Only my doctors and aunt know and sometimes, sometimes I want to tell people so they can understand, so they know why but then I just, can’t. Right now I, I feel like I can’t stop myself from saying everything, like I’m to tired to stop myself from talking.”

“Or perhaps, you feel comfortable enough to trust us?” Bruce suggests.

Peter shrugs, “maybe, I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.”

Both men laugh.

“Well neither of us are that kind of doctor either,” Bruce smiles.

“But I am getting better,” Peter adds, “Well I was until Uncle Ben.”

“What happened with your uncle,” Mr. Stark frowns.

Peter realizes the topic isn’t flowing right and both men are frowning darkly, “Oh he didn’t do anything like Skip. I mean my uncle, he um, well, he passed away al-almost two years ago.”

“Oh kid,” Mr. Stark.

“So yeah,” Peter continues, looking at his hands rather then the two men on either side of him, “I kind of went over the edge when that happened. Like three strikes my brain fries out and now I’m like this,” he waves his hand at himself and Karen. “separation anxiety that flairs up randomly, social anxiety because I’m afraid of strangers, occasional flashbacks, over a dozen triggers, on and off insomnia, panic attacks happening left and right. Gosh I’m so broken.”  
Peter buries his head in his hands with a hitched breath, trying to blink away tears starting to form in his eyes. 

“Peter ‘I-don’t-know-your-middle-name’ Parker, you are not broken,” Mr. Stark snaps. “Yes you’ve had some crappy experiences but you are not broken. Remember what I said on the roof about you being a survivor? Well that’s what you are, not broken. Talk like that and I might not let you see the personal labs here.”

Peter snorts, “I don’t know if I have the energy to go and see them right now.” 

“How about this,” Bruce suggests, “you rest here with me and Tony. I’ll message Natasha to grab some food on her way here, so we can eat when we get up.”

“Great idea,” Mr. Stark stands and begins grabbing throw blankets from off the couch and out of the storage ottoman, “a group naptime sounds great, I didn’t sleep much last night in fact.”

Bruce accepts some blankets from Mr. Stark and goes to the love seat, curling up with Hulk on his legs, “working or your chest bothering you?”

“Chest,” Mr. Stark replies as he reclines the side chair and props a pillow behind his head, “but that’s how it is when you have a weak heart, scar tissue pressing against your lungs, and manmade sternum and portions of ribs.”

“Holy crap,” Peter mutters as he unfolds the blanket Mr. Stark dropped on him.

“Yeah,” the man shifts to get Friday up in the chair with him, “bad habits, chest damage in an explosion, several surgeries, and a car accident can do that to a person.”

Peter signals Karen to him, she jumps up and settles against his legs as he lays down on the throw pillow, “I’m sorry that happened Mr. Stark.”

“I’m not,” the man sighs and closes his eyes, “all that made me a better person. I’ve made my company better, I made lasting friendships, I’ve made healthier lifestyle choices, plus,” the man opens one eye and smiles at Peter, “I got to meet you. So I’ll take this pain everyday knowing it’s brought me the best things in my life.”

“Aww,” Bruce chuckles, “you do have a heart.”

“Dam—ang right I do,” Mr. Stark snips.

Peter blushes and smiles into the blanket as he pulls it up around him like a cocoon. 

He’s had two attacks in front of these men.

He’s spilled his past to these men.

And now he lays curled up for a midafternoon nap in their presence. 

He doesn’t know if its comfort, trust, or his brain being fried from the episodes today but he doesn’t seem to mind this.

For now.

He’ll probably get embarrassed later about it.

But for now he’s ready for a quick power nap.

Just a quick one.

“Benjamin,” Peter whispers, “My middle name is Benjamin.”

There is silence.

“Sleep well Peter Benjamin Parker,” Mr. Stark whispers back. “Jarvis, dim the room.”

“As you wish sir.”

The windows shift, darkening and causing the room to become dimmer despite being in the middle of the day.

Peter smiles and lets himself drift. With all the jittery energy gone, his exhaustion takes over and sends him to sleep.


	18. Pizza and positive words

“So then what happened?”

“Well,” Peter shrugs, “I woke up two hours later, had a bowl of cereal with Mr. Stark and Doctor Banner, and after that Mr. Stark drove me home. Nothing super amazing happened.”

“Nothing amazing!” Ned gasps, “dude you got into Stark Tower and you got to go up to the top floor where he lives. Then you got to have a nap there along with sharing a bowl of cereal with two of the most important people in today’s world. That’s something few can say they’ve done.”

“Oh yeah so amazing. Had two attacks in front of my role model, pretty much passed out, ate his food, bummed a ride from him, and never once got to the labs like we talked about. So amazing,” Peter sighs.

Ned shifts uncomfortable, “hey I’m sorry man. I was just, you know, trying to find a good thing in all of that.”

Peter squeezes his friend’s shoulder, “I know Ned and I appreciate it. I’m just still crabby from everything, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok Pete,” Ned returns the shoulder squeeze.

“I wish everyone else would say that. All day today people are talking about how I must feel better, I got two days off so I must be well rested, I must be ready to face the rest of the week, how it must have been nice to take a couple days slow and relaxed. It’s driving me nuts,” Peter runs his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t a calm two days at home. I was edge, constantly having episodes, struggling to sleep, and taking medicines that turn me into a zombie to help with bad days. I just wish people wouldn’t assume that taking a day off means you got to lay about and relax in a calm state.”

“Day’s almost over,” Ned consoles the other teen.

“Thanks Ned,” Peter sighs, “sometimes I need someone to listen and not try to fix things.” 

“Glad to be here to help.”

The two teens continue to sit quietly on the school yard grass, munching at their lunches thoughtfully while Karen rolls in the grass beside Peter’s legs. 

“Going to stay the rest of the day or head home early?” Ned finally cuts into the silence. 

“May would want me to go home. She wasn’t happy I was coming back just for Friday classes after having a rough couple of days, but I don’t want to be held back a year because of absences.”

“What do you want Peter?” Ned presses, “do you want to stay the day or do you want to call it? Don’t think of your absences or May, what do you want?” 

Peter shakes his head, “I’ll just finish the day.”

Ned frowns but doesn’t address his disbelief in his friend’s decision, “if you say so.”

That is the look Peter sees every time he blinks slowly during his afternoon classes, regretting the decision each hour that passes. He doesn’t verbally admit it was a bad choice, that he should’ve just went home. Heck he probably shouldn’t have come to school considering how hard he struggles to focus on the content of the classes. But he isn’t going to say it out loud. He’s just going to focus on getting through each task until the bell sets him free. 

Just one job at a time.

One conversation at a time.

One foot in front of the other. 

The final bell rang for the day and Peter tries hard to not look like he’s running to escape campus. 

But he is. 

He is rushing to escape. 

“Yo Penis! You’re in a hurry, got a hot date? Oh wait who would go out with someone like you?”

Flash’s sneer echoes down the hall of lockers, the other teen and his friends grouped up not far down from Peter’s own locker. Peter sighs, closing the locker and rolling his shoulders to prepare himself to walk by the annoying group of bullies. 

For years he tolerated kids like these. As a smart kid in a normal elementary, Peter wasn’t a very popular boy. His only saving grace is that he met Ned in middle school, otherwise the bullying or just rude ignoring would have really been unbearable. He wasn’t usually physically bullied; he would have taken that since a bruise heals. No it’s the verbal comments that others use against him, comments that bury themselves into his mind and gnaw at his thoughts. 

Flash and his companions are nothing compared to the kids in middle school, but they are still people he doesn’t enjoy interacting with even on a good day.

And today isn’t a good day.

“Going to respond Parker?” Flash snaps as Peter begins to pass the group, “nothing to defend yourself with?” 

“I’m sure Peter has better things to do then respond to you Flash,” a voice cuts in to defend Peter.

MJ walks up beside Peter, eyeing the group in front of her with a look that makes a couple of the boys cringe.

Flash, Jake, and Charlie all flinch while shifting their feet nervously. Flash and Jake tend to throw comments at Peter and other students but are cowards when confronted about it.

“Doing what?” Seymore snickers.

Except Seymore. 

And Carl.

They could care less if someone tells them to stop or not, as if they can’t get through a day without harassing their classmates. Harassing other people seems to be addictive to them, finding enjoyment in bringing others down.

Once upon a time Peter wouldn’t have thought this. He’d have thought about how unlucky he is to be a target and how they were right with their comments. But his therapist has helped him come a long ways from those thoughts.

But it still hurt to hear them, that will never go away.

“Penis is probably rushing off to return the dog to whatever blind person he stole it from,” Carl cackles.

“Visually impaired,” MJ snaps.

“What?” Carl snorts.

“If you’re going to insult people, at least insult people with the right terms. Wait! Don’t. It’s probably best to use the derogatory terms to further emphasis your stupidity,” MJ sighs.

“Hey!” Carl snaps, “I’m not stupid, I’m one of the top twenty in class.”

“Uh huh,” MJ folds her arms, “keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night.”

“Pssh,” Seymore frowns, “aren’t you tired of being pathetic Parker? Having people defend you all the time, being a burden to them? When are you going to stand up for yourself?”

Peter winces.

Burden.

He has been a burden.

His thoughts begin to trigger back to the last couple days.

“Come on Peter,” Ned murmurs and disrupts Peter’s thoughts with a nudge, guiding Peter further down the hallway away from the group. 

“Jeez,” MJ groans when she catches up with the pair two halls later, “It’s surprising how stupid and ignorant people can be. This is supposed to be a school for the minds of tomorrow, yet people like them get in.”

“You should meet up with student body to petition diverse acceptance policies for student applicants, instead of it being all about grades and specialty performances they can have a subsection to check if a student has a-hole personality or not,” Ned laughs. 

“Hmm,” MJ regards the round boy with a curious look, “that’s actually got some potential. Tweak the idea a little but it might have some weight. I mean future employers call prior jobs for references and even check social media for information on potential employees. 

“Good job Ned,” Peter sighs, finally feeling ready to speak again, “now she’s going to spend this semester on this little project.”

Peter flashes what he hopes is a mischievous smile towards the darker girl, she flicks her dark curls with a similar smile making him see that she knew he was messing around.

“Well I need something to do when I’m not drawing people in crisis,” she chuckles. 

The three exit the building with the flow of teens, pausing at the bottom of the steps.

“Well while you contemplate all that I’m off, I’ve got enough homework that if I don’t start now then I won’t have time to myself later,” Ned sighs.

“Got a new lego set you want to work on?” MJ smirks.

“Hey we all have different hobbies,” Ned defends, “no hobby bashing.”

MJ lifts her hands in a defensive position, “whatever you say loser. Catch you both later. Peter, you taking the subway or getting a ride home?”

“Oh ah,” Peter glances around, “my aunt said she’s supposed to be coming to pick me up today.”

“Ok, well see yah,” MJ waves and begins her walk towards the subway.

“You can join her,” Peter quickly adds, “you don’t have to wait for me. If you do, you might miss the next train.”

“You sure Peter?” Ned frowns, “I don’t mind waiting.”

“Nah I’m good, just ready to go home for the weekend. Go on Ned, I’ll text you later.”

Peter puts on his best ‘I’m fine’ smile for his friend. 

Ned buys it as he nods and offers his hand for their special handshake, “alright my dude. Just call me if something happens and you need me to come back.”

“Ok, but don’t worry, I’ve got my best girl Karen.”

Karen’s tails thumps rapidly at her name, nuzzling Peter’s leg. 

“Alright, well later man,” Ned turns and walks slowly away towards the direction of the subway.

Very slowly.

With at least five glances back at Peter. 

Peter just smiles and waves each time until Ned is no longer within eyesight. 

Peter stands waiting with dozens of other teens by the loop, waiting for the familiar sight of his aunt’s car. 

But he doesn’t see it. 

His thoughts begin to pick up in speed as well as the growing knot in his stomach.

Should he text her?

Did she forget?

Did he mishear her saying she’s coming today?

“Hey Peter! Peter Parker!”

Peter’s head snaps up to the shout. In the vehicle loop is a black and silver jeep that no one recognizes. The only reason he stares at it in shock is the fact Bucky Barnes is sticking out of the roof giving a one arm wave.

“Geez,” Peter grumbles and runs over to the vehicle with Karen, throwing open the door to the beast of a vehicle. “Bucky what are you doing here?!”

“Get in kid, Winter’s waiting for Karen in the back,” the man responds.

Opening the small back door, Karen leaps up and lands on the bench seat beside Winter. Peter climbs into the passenger seat still frowning.

“Bucky, why are you here? And you can drive?”

“Don’t sound so shocked kid,” Bucky flicks some buttons on the steering wheel and the vehicle moves forward, “if people can modify cars for people in wheelchairs to drive then they can be modified for a one arm man. And don’t worry, I only drive on my good days so we’re safe.”

“But that doesn’t answer why you’re here,” Peter frowns.

“Well Tony called your aunt to check in on how you were doing today since you had a rough couple days. When she said you still weren’t doing so great he suggested you spend time with him, except Pepper dragged him off to some fancy emergency meeting in DC. So he called Steve to come and take you out for an after school treat, but Steve is working a commission today so he couldn’t come out. Which led me to overhearing and offering to pick you up, take you out a reward for getting through the day, and then dropping you at home.”

Peter just blinks for a moment, processing everything that was said. 

“Wow, that’s…wow,” Peter finally decides to go with. 

“So the next question is: what should we go eat?”

“Oh we don’t—” Peter begins to deny but his stomach grumbles loudly.

He is yet again betrayed by his own body. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

Bucky shoots Peter a smirk, “you’re saying kid?”

“Fine,” Peter sighs and throws his hand in air, “you pick a spot cuz I can eat anything at this point.”

“Ok well what about pizza?”

Peter nods, “pizza’s a classic, can’t go wrong with it.”

“Unless you put pineapple on it,” Bucky snorts, “that’s just sacrilegious.”

“I know right!”

With that the pair launch into other toppings on foods that should be outlawed by the food police. Peter doesn’t even realize how long they’ve been the car until they pull into a pizza joint that Peter doesn’t recognize in the Queens area.

“Where are we?”

“Edge of Brooklyn and Queens, small family joint but we all love this place,” the man responds as he gets out.

“Whose all ‘we’,” Peter follows and gets Karen down from the vehicle, hooking up to her again.

“The group guys. We stumbled onto this place once and we’ve been back many times,” Bucky walks around to Peter’s side. “And these guys are really good about the dogs.”

Peter follows Bucky into the restaurant. It’s got an Italian theme complete with the country’s flag color theme. Bucky picks a table against the wall, Winter laying beside him with a cue. Peter sits across from him, having Karen mimic Winter’s movements. 

“Jamie!” 

A large woman rushes around the other patrons and tables, dusting her hands on her apron and carrying menus. 

“Hey Ms. Rosso,” Bucky greets the woman.

“Where is that Stevie of yours?” the woman demands as she places the menus down.

“He’s working. I’m having a good day so I decided to bring my new friend here and introduce him to the wonders of your traditional pizza.”

“Oh aren’t you sweet,” the woman turns onto Peter, “I’m Ms. Rosso, who’re you sweetie?”

“Oh, ah, I’m-I’m Peter,” he stammers out under her gaze.

“Well I’ll let Jamie tell you about the menu. Can I grab you two something to drink?”

“I’ll have a water,” Bucky nods.

“Same.”

The woman nods and bustles off. 

“Jamie?” Peter questions after a moment.

“My first name is James, but nobody really remembers that,” Bucky responds, turning the attention to the menu. “So the pizza here is a little different from calling a joint to deliver,” Bucky points to the photos on the menu.

“Still looks good,” Peter nods.

“Then I guess all that’s left is deciding toppings and size.”

“Well nothing big, I’ve only got ten bucks on me.”

“Nonsense, I’m the one who brought us here so I’m paying. Get what you want kid.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Peter silently decides to still order a smaller portion, so he isn’t making the man spend tons of money. 

“Friend Barnes!”

There is some quiet grumbling following the loud shout. Peter follows Bucky’s gaze to find Thor and Loki wading through the tables between the door and the already sitting pair with a large grin on his face.

“Ah young Peter you’re here!” Thor greets Peter as he stands comes up to the table, “See brother it was worth the visit,” he nudges his dark-haired brother who now looks up from the phone in his hand with a disgruntle sigh.

Peter blinks an extra two times at the blonde man, Thor wears a tank top and shorts that fit with fabric to spare but somehow the man’s ridiculously defined muscles are on display. Peter’s shocked that the women in the building haven’t dropped with heart attacks yet. 

“Brother, must you act like an uncivilized barbarian? There is no need to be so loud in such a small place.”

Loki huffs and slides up between Thor and Peter, eyes moving from his phone to the menu he swipes from Bucky’s hand. 

“Loki,” Thor warns the teen.

“Oh hush, he’s been here enough that they probably have his order memorized. Now you promised me pizza so let me read.”

Loki is just as noticeable in his fashion as Thor, his short green top embroidered with ‘bad habit’ and tight black pants seem normal enough except he too has muscles stretching under the tight fabric that would have any girl at Peter’s school hoovering to have a chance at the guy. Peter tugs at his own sweatshirt, glad to have the baggy fabric hiding his skin and bones frame.

Peter’s attention is caught as Fenrir creeps from Loki’s side to sniff at Karen in greeting. Peter smiles as Karen accepts the motion before returning to her napping position at Peter’s feet. 

“Here let us do this,” Thor says as he pulls another small table up beside Peter and Bucky’s table. Thor plops down into position beside Bucky while Loki moves a seat beside Peter. Both leave space for Karen and Winter with Fenrir taking up the end of the table position. 

“Please, join us,” Bucky mutters sarcastically while frowning at the blonde. 

“Indeed we shall,” Thor responds to Bucky with a big, innocent grin.

Loki only shakes his head and turns towards Peter, “do you know what you’re going to order?”

Peter shrugs, “I was thinking a small cheese and peperoni is a pretty safe option.”

Loki snorts, “life’s to short to play it safe Peter.”

“Then you’ll have to live up the pizza potential for both of us,” Peter sasses back with a smirk.

“I shall,” Loki drops the menu dramatically with a similar smirk.

“Oh I see you’ve gotten more friends,” the woman returns from before with the waters. “I’ll take your food orders if all four of you boys are ready, as well as you two’s drink order.”

They place their orders, Thor and Loki taking sodas for their drinks. As the woman dashes off to make the two small pizzas and two large ones, Thor brings out his phone and waves it at the group.

“Loki taught me how to fold little origami flowers yesterday and look how cute Jori looks!”

The phone quickly makes its way around the table while Loki just scowls at everyone.

“Jormungandr is a proud and valiant serpent who should be wearing fine little hats, not paper flowers,” the teen snaps.

Peter glances at the phone to see a pale serpent curled up on a puffy green pillow wearing a pink paper flower with other flowers laying around it as if it’s a photoshoot. 

Loki groans, “don’t encourage him. Next thing he’ll be doing is making flower crowns for Fenrir.”

“What a splendid idea brother!” Thor laughs deeply.

Loki only groans but grins when the woman returns with the drinks and some garlic bread, “Just eat Thor,” Loki shoves the basket towards the man.

“With pleasure brother,” the man grabs two pieces of bread.

“Here,” Loki passes a piece to Peter, “my brother won’t leave any for us if we don’t take some now.”

“So what brings you two here today?” Thor speaks between bites.

“Peter deserves a reward for getting through the week,” Bucky replies simply.

“Ah yes, we are here as a reward for Loki as well. Loki managed to get through some tests today without causing any chaos at the hospital,” Thor reaches over and pats Loki’s hand proudly, “for such a great job I decided pizza is in order.”

Loki just sighs and pulls his hand back, “I can behave if I want to. It’s not my fault that I often get stuck with idiots who treat me like there is damage to my mental capacities. It’s just epilepsy.”

“Loki requires someone with a special bedside manner,” Thor whispers loudly enough that it really isn’t a whisper. 

Peter lets out a small chuckle but muffles it quickly, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Loki plays with a couple bobby-pins holding some of his hair back, “you get a free pass because you’re cooler than my brother.”

Peter just gapes at the other teen, “m-me? C-cool? I’m not-well-cool isn’t how, I’m not well, I’m not cool. You’re cool, I mean look at you,” Peter waves his hand at Loki, choosing to gaze at his water cup in embarrassment. 

“Peter,” Bucky sighs.

“Don’t be so down young Peter,” Thor adds, “you are an amiable young man as well.”

Peter snorts, “no I’m not. I’m too thin with the most basic shades of brown for hair and eyes, which you can’t even see properly behind my glasses. I have allergies, asthma, and a whole host of issues mentally. I’m not good at much and the few things I’m good at aren’t stuff teens are popular for. I don’t defend myself or fight back when I probably should, especially since kids at school seem to get some kind of fun out of harassing me all the time. To top that off I’m now bothering you guys from the group with my issues which just makes me selfish. I mean Bucky, you drove from another suburb just to take me out cuz I had a rough couple days.”

Flashes of things the guys at school say to him runs through Peter’s head. The comments, mean statements, jokes at his expense, each thing plays behind his closed eyelids. 

Peter groans and puts his head on the table, not wanting to look at everyone else.

There is a silence for a moment.

But then a warm hand pats the back of Peter’s head. 

“Peter, can you lift your head kiddo?”

Peter responds with a headshake to Bucky’s request.

“Ok well then, I want you to listen carefully. Ok?”

The boy nods in his arms. 

“First: you’re a teenager, you’re supposed to look all gangly because you’re still developing. Heck, I’ll show you pictures of Steve, he was a very late bloomer. Like halfway through his first year of college late—”

“And,” Loki’s voice cuts in, “I’ve seen uglier. You say you’re all skin and bone? I saw that shirt last weekend, you definitely have more than that on you.”

“Second,” Bucky continues, “Sure you have some things going on but that doesn’t make you any less of a person. I’m missing an arm, does that mean I’m less of a man then any other guy who walks into this shop?”

Peter lifts his head and meets Bucky’s eyes, “no.”

“Is Loki any less of a person for having an attitude bigger than himself and epilepsy?”

Peter glances from Bucky to Loki, “no.”

“Is Thor any less of a person because he struggles with English and American customs still?”

Peter raises an eyebrow at that, “no.”

“I may contest that,” Loki whispers.

“So you’re not any less of a person Peter and people who make you think that? They’re bullying you to compensate for things in their lives that they lack in,” Bucky concludes. “You hear me kid?”

Peter nods.

“Good,” Bucky sips his water, “also third: you’re not a burden. Heck all of us guys are excited to get to know you and hang out with you. You have a nice personality, you can understand a lot of what we talk about, sure we sometimes don’t understand your generation’s terminology but that’s ok, we like having you around.”

“What about me?” Loki snaps playfully.

Bucky groans, “yes we don’t mind you either Loki. We’d like you more if you stopped causing arguments between group members when you’re bored.”

Loki laughs, “yeah I’ll get back to you on that.”

“And,” Thor cuts in, “Loki won’t admit it out loud but he is very pleased you’ve joined the group. He has never gone to two meetings in a row for the years he’s gone, but just recently he did and that was because of you. So thank you Peter,” the man smiles. 

Bucky sips his water again, “any other thoughts we need to hash out Peter?” 

Peter shakes his head. 

It’s nice to hear the positives said out loud.

He’s heard enough negatives at school and in his head that hearing someone say the nice things pushes it all away.

“The only thing I want to no,” Peter speaks up, now recovering his sass, “is Thor and Loki’s opinions on pineapple as a pizza topping.”

The group launches into the age old argument which they laugh about loudly until their food being delivered disrupts the conversation. 

But only for a moment.

Between bites of food Thor tells stories about his childhood with Loki, things they did that drove their father mad but made their mother laugh. The pair bond with Peter when they discuss their parents passing that caused the two to immigrate to the states, Peter understanding the loss all to well. 

Bucky shares stories about his army squad, the Howling Commandos, which were obviously edited for young ears from the way Bucky would flounder every so often with wording. 

Loki manages to draw Peter into a conversation about Ru Paul’s Drag Race, a show Peter secretly watches with his aunt, with a promise that no one will expose the teen’s secret. 

By time the four leave the restaurant, its been several hours and Peter’s mood has bumped up several levels. In fact his knot of worry no longer weighing heavily in him as it has for the last couple days. 

“So Peter,” Loki turns onto the other teen, “you said earlier something about not looking as cool as me in the looks department. Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps if we get some clothes that fit a little differently that it might help with that body image you’ve got stuck in your head. So I think we should hit the mall for a new wardrobe.”

Peter frowns some, “that’s real nice of you Loki but I don’t have the funds for something like that.”

“You don’t,” Loki holds up his phone, “but a Mr. Anthony Stark does.”

“What?!” Peter yelps, grabbing at the phone.

Sure enough Loki has a chat open with others in the support group. Peter swipes through the conversation to see that the other teen suggested their group go out to the mall after the meeting Saturday. After several interesting statements the majority agree to the outing, especially when Loki brings up Peter’s earlier statements about his appearance. And sure enough, Peter finds the texts of Mr. Stark saying he’s wanted to put Peter in better clothes since day one. 

“I-I can’t, that is, I mean, that’s his money, I couldn’t,” Peter flounders.

“Money that he has no one but himself to spend on,” Loki swipes his phone back.

“He’s already done so much, I couldn’t—” Peter waves his hand vaguely. 

“Don’t worry to much Peter,” Thor claps him on the back, “we felt the same way when Stark bought us an apartment, provide an allowance, and helped with Loki’s medical bills when we first came to the states. It was too much. But then we realized that Tony struggles to express his emotions verbally, he does best by doing things to express himself. Him buying you a few shirts is his way of saying ‘I like you, thanks for being my friend.’”

“If you’re really concerned,” Bucky speaks up, “I’m sure Stark could use a lab assistant at times. You could help out to pay him back.”

With solid arguments like that Peter is hesitant to fight back, “I-well-I guess so.”

“Great!” Loki claps his hands, “I can’t wait to see what you look like in a none faded red, I have a feeling you’ll look good in a fresh shade of red, oh, or blue. So many ideas, I need to write them all done. Come brother,” Loki waves at his brother to follow him, “See you all at group!”

Thor waves as he follows Loki, the teen dramatically telling Thor about color schemes and season styles. The blonde listening with a smile as he follows.

“Should I be worried?” Peter finally asks Bucky.

“Don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, “but shopping with Loki is probably better then shopping with Stark. He took Bruce shopping once and lets just say Bruce didn’t want any social contact for a few weeks after that.”

“I hope so,” Peter mutters.

He’s never been a big shopper but he does appreciate nice clothes and a well styled outfit, probably something from the fact he’s spent the most time with his stylish aunt growing up. Because of all the issues last spring, Peter’s aunt and him never got around to getting new clothes for this school year, causing Peter to wear things from last year before the rough period. 

“Come on kid,” Bucky breaks into Peter’s thoughts, “lets get going before your aunt thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

“Ah, I doubt she’d think that,” Peter replies as he and Karen get in the jeep.

“I’d rather not find out,” Bucky chuckles, “never make a dame angry, a lesson you best remember.”

“Yes sir,” Peter laughs deeply.

Who knew pizza and some positive words would do the trick? Peter is surprised to find that those two things are what has him to falling asleep with a small smile on his face later that night.


	19. Let's go to the mall

Peter’s foot rhythmically taps against the car floor, his fingers occasional tapping along his knee as well.

But for the first time in many months these actions are not paired with the teen’s anxiety, stress, nerves, or harm. Rather he moves to the beat that fills the car so loudly he can feel the vibrations in his thin chest. It should be painful, to overstimulating for his ears, but for some reason he finds the full body sensation calming and even enjoyable.

Enjoyable.

A word Peter never thought would manage to make its way back into his mental vocabulary. 

“Look at you jamming out,” Mr. Stark chuckles from the driver’s seat, “do you know who this is?”

Peter bites his bottom lip for a second, “Led Zeppelin?” 

The man rolls his eyes with a snort, “This is AC/DC squirt but don’t worry by time we finish this trip I’m going to have you indoctrinated in the classics.”

Peter feels a small smile tug at his lips, “you make it sound like a cult,” Peter responds as the next song begins on the car sound system. 

“Cult of Stark?” Mr. Stark hums, “might actually be a thing out there. Don’t tell Pepper, she wouldn’t like something like that.”

“Hmmm,” Peter smirks, “I guess I could but what do I get for my silence Mr. Stark?”

“Ohh,” Tony wiggles a finger at the boy, “now you’re starting trouble. I knew you’d give me a run for my money once you got comfortable.”

“It’s not your money I’m running for Mr. Stark,” Peter chuckles softly. 

“Great, still a small fry and already trying to scheme like an adult,” the man remarks.

“I’m old enough to scheme,” Peter huffs.

“Right, how about you just listen to the music and finish that juice before we get to the mall kiddo.”

They share a smile as the man turns up the song and Peter begins to work on the juice box in his hands that Mr. Stark had given him back at the start of the trip.

It had been an awkward hand off actually.

Peter had been waiting in front of the apartment complex with his Aunt May and Karen, the pair working to help keep the rising panic and anxiety Peter felt under control. Peter refused to let himself back out of the mall visit with Mr. Stark, Thor, Loki, and whoever else from the group could come. He needs to do this, it’s a normal teenager past time and he needs to be able to go to large public places. Besides how is he supposed to hangout with Ned and go lego shopping if he can’t handle this? 

It is this thought process that has Peter pacing on the sidewalk with his service dog loyally watching him while his aunt goes through all the positive thought and calming strategies she knows while they waited for Mr. Stark.

The man arrived promptly in a surprisingly average looking silver audi, loading up Karen beside Friday in the back seats while Peter’s aunt talks him through another calming ritual. The man shoves cookies and a juice box into Peter’s lap once they are in the car and pulling away from the curb, attempting to distract Peter best he could.

And its working. 

Now Peter focuses on the music, finishing his snack, and finding himself bantering with the man casually. 

“Is this one AC/DC too?” Peter inquires as the song changes again.

“No, this one is Led Zeppline,” the man sighs, “don’t worry kiddo you’ll get it.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles at his mistake.

Mr. Stark only chuckles, “kid its ok. I’m sure if you put on your tunes I’d be just as lost since I’m not in touch with any Gen Z stuff outside of the surveys and data I hear in my meetings about our tech.”

“The meetings you said you play games on your phone during?” Peter glances up with a smirk, finding some courage to jab at the man again.

Tony chuckles at the teen, shaking his head while turning onto the next song.

Between the man’s very basic questions and songs playing, Peter was lulled into a calmer state and was oblivious to anything outside the vehicle’s windows until the car came to a stop and the man turns it off.

“Welp here we are kid,” Tony shifts and exits the car, going to the back seat and getting Friday ready for the mall trip with her gear. 

But Peter doesn’t move. 

Rather the crushing reality of what he’s about to do has the teen watching people walking through the parking lot towards the mall, thoughts beginning to race with ‘what-ifs’.

He can feel Karen’s wet nose poking at his neck in anticipation as the sound of the car door closing splinters Peter’s thoughts temporarily. 

Taking a deep breath, slowly exhaling while watching Mr. Stark walk around the front of the car with Friday, the teen finds his arms and legs still not responding to his brain’s request to move. As if frozen by the glare of a medusa, Peter sits as a statue in hi seat. 

The door beside Peter opens but the teen continues to stare forward, taking deep and even breaths. The man doesn’t say a thing as he squats down beside the car, leaning his back against the open door and waiting for Peter to calm down enough to speak to him. 

“Just a small mall,” Peter finally says.

“Yep, small mall.”

“Not even close to the size of the one in Queens I went to last year for school clothes,” Peter continues.

“Nope and only a fraction of what is up in Manhattan,” Mr. Stark adds.

“And people are busy shopping, minding their own business.”

“Yes and if anyone doesn’t mind their business, I’ll make them.”

“And I’ll be with you, Loki, and Thor,” Peter summarizes.

“And some of the other guys might even pop down if their schedules let them, we’ll find out when we get to the meetup spot,” Mr. Stark replies.

“So yeah, just a simple shopping trip with guy friends at an inconspicuous mall, nothing hard, super simple,” Peter exhales loudly.

“There were a lot of simples in that statement kid.”

Peter lets out a forced chuckle, “because getting out of the car should be simple but here I sit.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark leans further towards the teen to get into Peter’s eye line, “there is no race or time limit or pressure. You can get out of my car whenever you feel ready and if you don’t feel ready then we’ll turn around and try again.”

“But I can’t do that to the others,” Peter whispers.

“Kid it’s no big deal. We’ve all been in your position, trust me you are not the first to need a few trials before you get into a populated building. Do you want to turn around? No pressure kid.”

“No,” Peter sighs, “no I can do this. I need to do this.” 

“Ok well,” the man adjusts himself into a more comfortable position on the ground beside the car, “you let me know when you’re ready.” 

There is silence between the pair, only natural parkinglot sounds and the sounds of the two support dogs cut the silence between the pair. Peter focuses on his breathing, occasional licks from Karen at his neck cutting into his ‘what-if’ thoughts. 

“Ok,” Peter finally speaks up after an unspecified amount of time sitting in the open car. “I think I’m ready.”

Moving aside, Tony and Friday shift to their feet and stretch off to the side as the teen exits and proceeds to get Karen ready for the outing. The other dog leaps out of the car beside Peter, but unlike Friday she stays close to her handler, leaning against the teen’s leg as she provides the nervous boy some grounding support. 

“Ok the rest said they’d meet us at the front entrance by the welcome sign,” Mr. Stark points off into the distance, “lets start walking kiddo.” 

They walk onward, Tony deciding to cut the silence with comments about the cars they walk past with a small hope it would also distract the teen.

“…..and I doubt the frame behind that bumper is even straight, I’d have to start there before replacing that wannabe bumper that car has,” Tony is ranting about a car with a lopsided bumper.

“But,” Peter cuts the man off with a small voice, “what if the whole trunk area is just lopsided, you’d be taking everything apart for no reason.”

The man lights up with a big smile at the boy, “true but then I’d really want to take the thing apart to figure out why the whole back end is lopsided. Plus it’d be a learning experience.”

“For who?”

“For you buddy,” the man laughs, “if I was to do that job I’d have you tag along and learn.”

Peter stops walking, Tony only pauses after a moment when realizing the boy’s shadow no longer was on the ground beside his. 

“What’s wrong Pete?”

“Y-you’d teach me?”

The man frowns for a moment, “I mean I’d like to teach you, in fact there’s lots I’d like to teach you. You seem to have interest in science and building plus you’d be able to keep up with me which not many people can do. When you’re comfortable of course, I wouldn’t want to invite you to tinker with me if it sets you off.” The man stops rambling and Peter just squeezes Karen’s lease tightly, blinking rapidly, “of course if I’m just overstepping myself and making this weird then we can just pretend I didn’t say any of that—”

Peter cuts him off by shaking his head and moving closer to the man, “no-no, that’s not….I just…no one…but you’d just….and you’re Tony Stark….I’m just Peter…and—and,” Peter struggles, the words getting stuck in his mouth.

Tony pulls the boy closer to the parked cars to avoid issues with traffic, squeezing the boy’s shoulder gently, “breathe Peter. Take a moment and calm, then try explaining again.”

Peter takes a couple exaggerated inhales before clearing his throat, hands nervously toying with Karen’s leash as the dog presses up against the boy’s leg. 

“Yo-you want to teach me things?”

Tony nods, “well that’s what I said.”

“You?” Peter gasps, “billionaire genius in charge of one of the most well-known tech companies in the world wants to teach me something as-as mundane as changing a tire or something? Me? Broken civilian Peter Parker?”

“Wow, that was a lot,” the man gives a breathy chuckle. “Yes you. I like you, I like talking to you. I think you have great potential. I’d like to teach you the mundane things, as you put it, and the fancy stuff. Also: you Peter Parker, are not broken. If you’re broken then so am I and everyone else in our little club.”   
Peter goes to say something but the man waves a hand, “nope I know you’re about to say none of us are broken, so that means you’re not broken either. Adjusting to a new normal, yes, but not broken. Now anything else we need to air out?”

Peter shifts his feet and glances around, “n-no, I just, I just thought maybe, I was going to be, you know, some kind of charity case I guess.”

Mr. Stark sighs and runs hand through his hair, “In the past that was a think I did. There are lots of things I did in the past I’m not proud of, but kid you’re not a charity case. This buying you stuff, taking you places, doing things with you: none of it is charity. I like you kid. I’m just trying to show you through I like you.”

“Well,” Peter shifts his feet and shoots a timid smile to the man, “I like you too Mr. Stark.”

“Ok kid, what do I need to do to get you to call me Tony already?”

Peter shrugs and smirks, “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“Oh,” the man starts walking, shaking his head at the teen following him, “now there is that snark again.” 

“Who’s getting snarky?”

The voice interrupts the pair, Loki stalking towards them with Thor waving back by a large jeep a few parking spots away.

“Mr. Parker here is starting to reveal he is a snarky teenager just like you Loki,” Tony snorts.

“Great,” Loki beams mischievously, “I have so many ideas with that information.”

“I don’t want to know,” Tony waves the other teen off, only to frown at the beaming Thor, “and you sir, how did you manage to get a parking spot so close to the building?”

The big blonde shrugs, “luck.”

Loki snorts, “Nah, Thor pulled over to help some ladies load their car, they gave him their spot after he flexed those ridiculous muscles.” 

“Now Loki,” the man hugs the darker teen shoulders with a meaty arm, “kindness goes a lot further in this world then animosity.” 

Loki looks ready to argue but Tony cuts in to prevent the siblings going off, “alright, lets get to the meet point and see if anyone else showed up.”

The four walk the rest of the way through the parking lot, Loki occasionally grumbling under his breath while Thor tell Tony about his work, Peter watches them all with a small smile.

He could do this. 

He feels a little calmer with the three around him.

His smile gets wider when Bucky gives a small wave from where he and Winter wait by the welcome sign.

“Hey Barnes,” Mr. Stark greets the man as the group comes to a stop by him. 

“Stark,” the man nods in return, “Thor.”

“It is grand to see you here Bucky, this will be a wondrous time here at the merchant building.”

“I see that English is still a little funky for you,” Bucky snorts and eyes Loki.

The teen shrugs, “he likes reading fancy old books to learn English.” 

“Right,” Bucky responds with a doubtful look before turning his attention off the teen. “Steve is working, Natasha is working, Clint said he’ll come if the kids behave, and that’s all I know.” 

“Bruce is at a luncheon and Rhodey is at a fancy government meeting,” Mr. Stark adds.  
“So just us on this adventure?” Thor smiles

“It’s not an adventure you blonde lumberjack, we’re just going shopping,” Loki sighs.

“And that is an adventure, you’ll never know what you’ll find at the end,” Thor chides the teen.

“Okay,” Tony loudly interrupts the pair, “lets go hit some shops,” the man turns towards Peter, “ready buddy?”

Peter swallows nervously but yet nods, eyes darting towards the glass doors opening and closing as groups of people go in and out.

He can do this.

Simple shopping trip.

He’s ready.


	20. The mall, deeper conversations, and pineapples

Peter takes everything back, he’s not ready.

He’s definitely not ready. 

Maybe he’ll never be ready.

“Come on Peter, one bite,” Loki coaxes with a smirk.

“No way, this has to be illegal, pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity,” Peter pushes the plate with the offending item away from him, “I’ll never be ready to eat such a monstrosity.”

“Even for money?” the other teen waves a ten-dollar bill.

“Don’t give in kid,” Mr. Stark snorts, “once you give in to reindeer games, he’ll be betting you things left and right then next thing you know you’ll be out dancing somewhere with questionable clothing on with video evidence to remind you.”

Peter frowns, “that sounds, oddly specific Mr. Stark.”

The man sighs, “Tony kid. Call me Tony and lets just move onto a different topic, like what store do you want to visit to buy some new shirts?” 

Peter tries not to gag as he watches Loki and Thor eat the Hawaiian pizza slices, Loki making obnoxious noises around the pineapple bites. He tries to focus on Mr. Stark instead, which helps since the man is sitting against a pillar in the mall food court so random strangers are not passing behind him like they are behind Thor. 

“Shirts? I didn’t bring money to buy shirts?” Peter is bewildered, he brought money for the pizza he now eats for lunch and have some left for a snack for later but that’s it.

“Yeah well I spoke to your aunt and she gave me the go ahead to buy you a couple new shirts while we are out,” Tony smiles and shows Peter his phone with text messages between Peter’s aunt May and the man discussing clothing. 

Which Peter is suddenly glad it’s just shirts since the messages started out with Mr. Stark asking to buy Peter a whole new wardrobe.

“You don’t have to Mr. Stark,” Peter hands the phone back.

“I don’t have to but I want to kid,” the man pockets the phone with a smile, “you get the choice of picking out some shirts with me and the guys or come out again some other time with your aunt.”

Peter sighs and glances around the table. Bucky continues to work through the pile fries on his try while Thor pounds down his third slice of pizza, Loki is watching Peter with that shady smirk still as he pops a pineapple piece in his mouth with way to much flourish. 

Peter turns back and shrugs at the man, “I guess we could get a few Mr. Stark.”

“Perfect! And for come on kid, Tony. You can call me Tony, come on, try it.”

“That sounds good….Tony,” Peter flushes nervously. 

“Yes,” Tony hisses, “much better munchkin.” 

“We looking for dress shirts or just casual shirts for you Peter?” Loki inquires, having moved onto his pretzel now that the offensive pizza was gone.

“Casual I think,” Peter glances at Tony.

The man nods, “your aunt says you’ve worn out several of your t-shirts and could use at least one button up.”

“Well,” Loki eyes Peter’s attire, “I’ve got some ideas on were we can go for casual shirts.”

“We don’t need to go anywhere fancy,” Peter butts in, hand searching for Karen at his feet, “just a Target run is fine enough.” 

“Kid, we’re already in a mall,” Tony sighs, “let me worry about the prices and you worry about finding something that fits. What sort of style do you like?”

Peter pulls out his phone, sliding through his gallery to a few photos before—well before everything—and shows it to the man.

“I wear shirts like these usually, I mean before, well, yeah.”

The man flips through the photos, “easy enough, basic tees with fun puns or memes.”

“Maybe we can convince you to add some spice to your closet,” Loki cuts in.

Peter gives a little frown. 

Sure Loki looks great in his tight jeans and leather jacket but that isn’t Peter’s vibe.

“I don’t mean exactly like me,” Loki rolls his eyes, “but maybe a nice jean jacket or maybe a cool belt to add to your outfits.”

“Oh yeah…ah, I don’t know? I mean, I haven’t worn one in awhile,” Peter fumbles.

Loki didn’t get a chance to speak up in return as Tony cuts in and gains Peter’s attention.

“What’s this Peter? Homework?”

Peter turns and takes his phone back, finding the photo of the paper his therapist gave him a couple weeks back in the picture.

“Oh ah kinda, it’s just something my therapist gave me, you know,” Peter quickly puts the phone away.

But he can see Mr. St—Tony wants to say something but thankfully doesn’t.

“Are we ready to press onward friends?” Thor interrupts loudly.

With a majority agreement, the group gathers up and leaves the food court with their four-legged shadows. They had made it to the bookstore and one clothing store before Thor loudly declared they needed food and the group spent over an hour in the corner of the food court.

All of which Peter found easy to do. His nervousness dropped with each minute he spent around the group, their confidence oozing around them enough to make Peter feel a little confidence growing in himself. Karen seemed to enjoy being around the others as well, watching the other service dogs as much as Peter observed their handlers. So far no one bothered the group, occasional glances but nothing like the horror stories Peter had read about online once.

So Peter walks into the clothing store beside the food court with Loki still trying to encourage Peter to convert to pineapple pizza, without any major worries. Until Thor holds up a t-shirt with a unicorn flying over a rainbow with a flaming taco riding on it, the huge man grinning ear to ear.

“Peter does this shirt please you as much as it pleases me?”

Peter isn’t sure how to respond.

He glances at Bucky who shakes his head and turns away.

He glances at Tony who is as shocked at Peter.

Thankfully Loki solves the problem, “Thor put that down. You’re not buying that! Peter’s not buying it either,” the other teen putting the offending item back on the rack, “I swear, you’d go out in a bathrobe and 90’s tracksuit if I let you.”

“And I appreciate you help with my attire brother,” the man beams.

“Try this on,” the teen shoves a toned-down navy-blue shirt with some kittens on the pocket to his brother.

“It has kittens on it,” Tony remarks as the large man wanders off to try on the shirt.

“Yeah well my brother likes that kind of stuff, at least this way I have some control over what he grabs without him sneaking crappy clothes into the his closet behind my back,” Loki sighs. 

“Come here Pete,” Tony beckons Peter to a different rack of shirts, “any of these work for you?”

Peter paws through the rack while Karen and Friday sit calmly between the two handlers watching the process of Tony pointing out shirts for Peter to glance at in the mass of hung tops.

“I like this one,” Peter pulls out a blue t-shirt with a science pun he’s never had on it.

“Ok well let’s find your size buddy,” the man pulls out two more of the same top and holds them up to Peter’s body. 

This process repeated two more times between the pair until three shirts hung on Tony’s arm for Peter.

“Hey kiddo, mind if I ask you something?”

Peter pauses in looking at a table of folded t-shirts, Thor and Loki arguing in the distance and Bucky….well Peter hasn’t a clue where that man has now wandered off to.

“Sure,” Peter’s voice wavers a little.

“Nothing bad kid, I’m just curious,” Tony offers a smile and Peter accepts it with a nod.

“That list thing on your phone—”

Peter sighs and sets the t-shirt he was looking at down on the table of clothing.

“My therapist wants me to set some goals to work towards but I just….I don’t know what I should put. I’m afraid….I don’t mean like panicking afraid, just I don’t now, worried? That I’ll write something as a goal that really isn’t achievable and I’ll stress over that.”

“I hear yah, it took me three months to even start my goal list with my therapist back in the beginning,” Tony.

“Really?” 

“Really. Can I offer you a suggestion?” 

Peter nods.

“Set simple goals, things you used to do before but aren’t doing now yet you want to. For example one of my goals was going to a restaurant with Rhodey.”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes widen in shock, “just a restaurant?”

Tony nods, “sometimes people recognize me, sometimes they don’t. either way I always stressed about have to maintain a perfect image when I ate out which didn’t help my heart problems. A few times I even panicked when people approached me. So after I went through my surgeries and medications and got Friday I decided to set a goal for eating out with Rhodey but without stressing about my image or panicking if someone happens to recognize me.”

“How’d that go?”

“It took two months of trying once a week before I could really say that goal could be checked off.” 

Peter nods and messes with a different shirt on the table of clothing, thoughts twisting and turning in his head. 

“What’s something you did before, well everything, that you want to do now?” Tony probes Peter much like Peter’s therapist did the first time she showed him the goal worksheet.

And just like then, Peter shrugs in response. 

“Is there something at school that you did before that you want to get back to doing again?”

Peter pauses, “I’d like to do Robotics Club again, maybe. I miss building stuff. There is this pawn shop down the road from my apartment that will sometimes toss out old tech in the back garbage area and I’d grab stuff and build things.”

“Well how about this, we make one of your goals be having special time to build again,” Tony suggests.

“Not go to Robotics club?” Peter frowns

“Do you want it to be robotics club? Sounds like you’re aren’t sure so it’s best to have a goal that is achievable, also if you leave it like that then you can build anywhere that works for you.”

“Like your lab?” Peter murmurs quietly.

And Tony hears him, “if you want it to be, I’d love the company in the lab.”

Peter flushes shyly and hands a shirt to Tony, “I, ah, like this one, too.”

The man takes it up with a nod and smile.

“Watch did yah find Parker,” Loki demands as he and Thor come up beside the pair, Thor holding several shirts in his own arms. 

Loki reaches out and flips through the shorts on Tony’s arm and sighs, “well definitely something I see you wearing Peter, sure I can’t talk you into a jean jacket?”

Peter smiles and shakes his head, “not today Loki.”

“Oh so there is hope for another day,” Loki smirks.

“What were the two of you talking about, it was very serious looking?” Thor asks.

Tony glances at Peter who nods his permission to tell.

“Just ideas for Peter’s list of goals he’s going to make.”

“Oh, therapy?” Loki asks.

Peter nods.

The other teen shrugs, “yeah I made one of those, haven’t met the goals I put yet but getting there. Having a little trouble with my goal of admitting when I need a break. Sometimes I just snap at Thor or others instead of just saying I need alone time.”

“But you’re getting better at it Loki, and you’ve accomplished many other of your goals dear brother,” Thor squeezes his brother’s shoulder affectionately.

“I have goals too,” Bucky speaks up.

Both Tony and Peter jerk sideways at the words. 

“Geez, I need to put a bell on you Barnes, I have a weak heart man, stopping sneaking up on me like that,” Tony snaps. 

The man shrugs but smirks. In fact even his dog Winter looked to be smirking too as she fits into the doggie circle at the human feet in Peter’s opinion.

“Let us know if you want help or want to hear about our goals,” Tony offers, “we may not share all our goals but many of us in the group are willing to share some of what we’ve been working on.” 

The group continues through the store, slowly getting closer to the check out area. 

“Mr. Sta—Tony I have some,” the teen begins as the group enters the checkout line and reaches for his wallet.

“Nope,” the man cuts Peter off, “I’m paying kid. It’s my way of saying thanks for letting us hang out.”

“Yeah cuz without us Stark would be a lonely old man in a tower,” Loki snorted. 

“Gee thanks for the vote Loki,” Tony quips back but still smiles in the process. 

The group buys their clothes, Bucky magically appearing with a t-shirt himself to buy which Peter still wonders where it came from since the man wasn’t holding anything before getting in line.

Or at least he didn’t think he was.

Peter now wonders if Bucky is some sort of trained ninja. 

Exiting the store had Peter feeling rather happy and his mind starting to process ideas for his goal homework from his therapist, the whole day going way better than he ever imagined.

“I hafta go meet Steve so I gotta get going,” Bucky speaks up to the group while looking at his phone.

“Need a ride Buck-a-roo?” 

The man shakes his head, “nah, Steve is down the street, there’s a gallery there at the stop light he’s setting up in.” 

“We should head home soon as well friends,” Thor glances as Loki who frowns but there is a twitch in hand that tells Peter that Loki might not be angry but nervous. Fenrir shifts and begins stare at Loki, pawing at the other teen to look at him. 

If anyone else things Fenrir is giving a signal they don’t draw attention to the fact, rather Tony ushers Peter out of the mall along with the others, everyone saying goodbyes rather normally before Bucky walks swiftly away and Thor hoovers so close to Loki as they walk the parking lot that if the man trips he’ll flatten the teen.  


Tony and Peter arrive at the man’s car but once they and the dogs are situated in the vehicle with their bags, Tony just lets the car idle for a moment.

“You ok Tony?” 

“Yeah kid, just thinking.”

“About what?” 

“Well, we were talking about goals and it’s just got me thinking.”

Peter shifts for a moment, internally deciding what he should say next. Finding a little courage Peter replies with, “you could…like talk it out….you know…with me….if it helps.” 

Tony drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, mulling over Peter’s words from the teen’s perspective. 

“I think,” the man starts, “I think I need to do a new goal list.”

“What’s wrong with yours right now?”

“That’s the thing,” Tony sighs, “I wrote a list of goals back in the beginning and after I accomplished them I decided not to do another list….but….well, maybe I should.”

“What if,” Peter drums his own fingers on his legs, “what if I write my list and you write your list and we can share it with each other? You know, make each other accountable?”

Tony’s eyes widen, “you’d do that with me kid?” 

The teen shrugs, “well I’ll have to go over it with my therapist but I mean I don’t see her a lot so I guess this way I have someone to talk to about it and you can talk to me since, I’m kinda unbiased….I guess…maybe,” Peter words taper off. 

“How about we meet up next Saturday,” Tony suggests, “after our meeting with the group we can grab lunch and go to my place? We can go over our lists then, that way we have time to think and come up with stuff. Maybe even tinker a little?”

Peter’s head is nodding in agreement before the man is halfway through his suggestion, “as long as my aunt is ok with it.”

“Ok, good, good,” the man murmurs with a smile that Peter returns with his own big grin. 

Oddly enough though, Peter didn’t need days to come up with his list. 

After saying bye to Mr. Stark, who easily got Peter’s aunt to agree to the teen spending not just the following Saturday but any Saturday after that with him so long as Peter didn’t have other plans, the teen ran to his room and began sifting through the thoughts bouncing in his head. 

The list that he was struggling with for weeks taking form under his fingers, Peter sets aside his pen when his aunt calls him for dinner.

“What do you think Karen?”

Peter turns his paper to the resting dog on his bed. The dog just blinks at him, attempts to lick his hand, then perks up when a cupboard closes loudly in the other room signaling May getting out Karen’s dinner things. 

“Alright girl, lets grab dinner then.”

At the magic ‘d’ word, the dog jumps off the bed and bounds to the kitchen cheerfully with Peter following behind after pinning his list to his corkboard to keep safe. 

_-Get into an after-school club/program/something? (Tony?)  
-Take the subway both directions all by myself  
-Go hang out with just teen friends (shopping? Movies? Arcade?) for a few hours  
-Have a sleep over at a friend’s house  
-Use a cashier instead of self-checkout and respond to the cashier  
-Go someplace on my own, order food or drink, stay and finish the order  
-Pay it forward. Help someone with a service dog like how the guys help me _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the readers who returned to see what is going to happen in this fic. I apologize for disappearing before finishing, there were issues with my plot plan resembling another work i ended up finding (minus the service dogs) so I went back to the drawing board to adjust my plot plan going forward.
> 
> Also the long term affects of covid causing the loss of my job and a family member diagnosed with terminal cancer kind sucked all the joy from my life for a few months. 
> 
> But going forward there shouldn't be another long break like the last one, I don't have a set release schedule but i'm trying to do one chapter a week at least.


	21. Subways and Rescues

_ Thwip, thwip, thwip _

The rhythmic yet subtle sound is accompanied with stinging sensation on Peter’s wrist. The teen leans stiffly with his elbows on his knees, eyes unfocused as his hand continues to stretch and release a strange white substance around his wrist. 

Karen sits between his legs, pressing against his calves heavily while her nose digs in between Peter’s hands in an attempt to stop him.   
For the moment it works. Her muzzle resting on the wrist with the white substance while his free hand now moves and pets her head instead of causing pain to himself. 

“Karen,” he whispers to the dog, “Karen, Karen.”

The dog eyes her handler as he chants her name, trembling hands now rubbing and petting the dog’s head, ears, and open fur around her vest. The loyal helper continues her silent vigil against his legs and eyeing his movements for any self-harm from her destressed handler. 

Peter would have been grateful for his service dog’s diligent attention if he wasn’t distressed and working hard to fight the panic bubbling in his stomach and the urge to make it go away with pain. His hands continue to move along Karen’s body in jerky rhythms as his brain screams with millions of thoughts. 

He hadn’t been like this earlier.

No, not so long ago the teen had walked into the Queens subway station near his apartment with confidence and excitement. His aunt could no longer drive him to and from school without cutting into her work hours, something Peter wasn’t to happy about but the idea of going back to his normal routine of taking the subway like before his incident had him excited. 

An excitement that carried over through the walk and to the subway platform itself. 

Which ended the moment the subway car doors opened revealing dozens of people getting off and dozens still being on. Peter’s mood hit the floor as he backed away and dropped to a discreet bench many feet from the train tracks, panic eating him alive from the inside. 

Leading Peter to his present situation: unable to push forward and get to school and unable to double back to the apartment, frozen to the bench clutching at his only lifeline with reality: Karen. 

Peter’s eyes burn with tears he tries hard to keep from falling. Short gasps rattle his thin frame. His teeth groan in protest each time he’s clenches them to hard. 

He needs helps.

But he can’t call his aunt, she needs to work a full shift without him being a bother if they’re to have consistent income again.

He can’t call Ned, he’s at school probably wondering where Peter is right this moment. 

Peter’s thoughts suddenly pause as a scratchy wet feeling on his chest draws his attention.

Karen has rotated around, her head now aimed at Peter’s stomach. She continues to lick and nibble at Peter’s stomach, the fabric moist from the effort she’s putting in. 

“Karen?”

The dog responds by nibbling at Peter’s jacket. 

“Don’t ruin this Karen,” Peter tugs at the jacket.

His hand touches something solid in his jacket in the process. 

His phone.

Peter removes the device from his pocket, his other hand scratching at Karen’s head as he tries to fight the urge to bite his fingers. 

The device lights up in Peter’s hand, the song Iron man by Black Sabbath fills Peter’s ears. 

He switches it on, putting the device to his ear.

“Peter? Peter? Are you there? Come on kid, I need you to respond in some way. Give me a sign buddy.”

“T-tony,” Peter chokes out quietly. 

“Kid, your aunt is calling around looking for you. The school says you never showed for homeroom or first block,” the man sounds worried to Peter’s ears. 

“I-I,” Peter gasps and lets out a sob, “T-tony, I can’t,” another sob shakes Peter’s small body. 

“Ok, ok kid I hear you. Yes or no buddy: are you at home?”

“N-no.”

“Are you near your home?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you on the street somewhere kid?”

“N-no, sub-subway.”

“On the train?”

“N-no, I, Tony,” gasp, “I c-can’t,” Peter lets out another sob.

“Ok, alright, are you saying you’re at the subway station by your home?”

“Yeah.”

Another train rolls into the station, the announcement echoing loudly in Peter’s ears making the teen wince, his hand squeezing Karen’s vest handle in response before resuming the petting.

“Hey kid I heard the announcement,” Tony speaks once the announcements and train are done in the station. “Stay right were you are, I’m on my way.”

“You-you don’t….I can, I just….” Peter tries to find the words to tell the man not to burden himself with driving across the city to get to Peter. 

“Hush underoos, I’ll let your aunt hottie know I’m coming for you and beeboop over there in no time. Just don’t move kiddo, stay there and I’ll come for you.”

“I-I’ll come up…I’ll come,” Peter tries to say around the gasps he’ll exit the station but fails.

“If you can kiddo that’s fine but if you can’t that’s also ok. I can come down there and grab you just as easily.” 

Peter nods into the phone with a sniffle, trying hard to suppress the emotions in public as he notices a few people eye him.

“T-tony, talk?” Peter asks childishly.

“Let me tell you about last night kid, you won’t believe what happened…..”

Tony launches into a long story, one that Peter couldn’t really focus on but the sound of the man’s voice begin to filter over the fear inducing thoughts fighting for attention in his mind. 

When another subway train stops, the car near Peter expels more people from it then the last few times. Peter’s eyes saw nothing but a mass of strangers, blobs of flesh that make his hands shake again and the pain in his stomach intensifying. A single thought passes through his mind as the people rush by, a few eyeing him and Karen.

He needs to get away.

Standing up shakily, he grips Karen’s leash tightly with one hand and his phone in his other hand. Taking a few steps forward, Karen moves beside her handler with care, making sure to press herself against him and watch him closely. 

The fear slipping away, Peter’s body moves on its own accord with the determination to follow through with getting away. 

“Karen, out,” Peter says.

Not a command he’s used outside of practice, he wonders vaguely if she will remember what to do. 

Karen does. She steps from Peter’s side, walking in front of him with a glance back at him every few steps. 

The pace is slow. 

Peter pauses at the bottom of the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall.

Karen shifts back, pressing against him heavily. 

“Out Karen,” Peter says again.

Karen moves in front of him, leading the teen up the stairs slowly but steadily. 

Peter manages to make it to the stop of the stairs only to sidestep up against another wall and crouch down. 

Karen moves inward, her nose poking at Peter’s face as she pushes into him.

Peter doesn’t feel much of that. He knows Karen is there, but he doesn’t feel it like he normally does when she puts some of her weight against him. 

With another shaky breath, Peter stands and has Karen once again leading him out of the subway. He makes it through the turnstiles and to another bench, gasping for air like he ran a marathon. 

Karen wastes no time to prop herself up into Peter’s lap, trying to push against her handler. 

Peter is vaguely aware that she is applying pressure, about as vaguely aware of Tony talking on the phone in the teen’s ear. 

But it all seems distant, oddly far away.

“—eter! Peter! Come on kid! Peter!”

The teen blinks a few times, finding Tony Stark standing in front of him in the flesh with his own dog Friday at his side. Peter slowly looks his phone and the man in confusion. 

“Peter can I touch you buddy?” 

Peter can hear worry in the man’s voice. 

But why?

The teen is finally not feeling that panic eating away at his stomach, there is no reason to worry.

But Peter still nods, granting the man permission to touch.

Tony bends down, placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“Peter focus on me kid, can you tell me what color my shirt is buddy?”

Peter blinks slowly, eyes scanning downward.

“B-black.”

“Good kid, what’s Friday’s harness color?”

“Red.” 

“Great, feel me yet kiddo? Feel me squeezing your shoulders? Feeling Karen on you? She’s even booping you with her nose, try to focus on Karen’s boops.” 

Peter just blinks in response.

But he feels it now.

The wet texture poking at his chin that he recognizes as Karen’s noise. 

Reaching out, Peter’s hands attach to Karen’s body.

“That’s right kid, feel Karen? Feel her soft fur, bet it feels nice.”

It does feel nice, Peter loves Karen’s fur.

Suddenly, as if a door is flung open in the teen, the twisting pain in his stomach is back and his breath hitches. 

“T-Tony?” 

The word is all Peter can get out before he breaks down sobbing.

“Hey it’s ok underoos,” Tony murmurs as he sits on the bench beside the teen, “you’re Peter Parker and you’re in a Queens subway station. Everything is going to be alright now because I’ve got you and no one is going to get you. Your safe with me, Karen, and Friday so just focus on breathing with me buddy.”

Peter isn’t sure how many minutes past before the panic subsides and the fog finally lifts completely from his mind.

With a clearer, but exhausted, mind the teen finally really looks around him. Tony sits so close his body is pressing against Peter’s, Friday siting and watching the humans. Karen hides most of Peter’s body as she is propped up and working hard to keep herself pressed against him despite him sitting on the bench, to apply pressure.

Taking a few shaky but even breaths, Peter releases Karen from her pressure giving. 

“Such a good girl Karen,” Peter coos and praises his sweet girl.

“You with me now underoos?”

Peter gives a jerky nod, “y-yeah.” 

“How about we move this meeting to my place? Or yours, we can go there too. I mean whatever makes you happy.”

“Wh-what about school?”

“Well your aunt called you in absent and even if you want to try going, I’m going to have to say I don’t think that’s a good idea kiddo. You had some big feels just now and I think maybe a quick rest might be needed.” 

Peter thought about going home.

But the thought makes him realize he failed today. 

No he doesn’t want to think about failing.

“Yo-yours please,” Peter decides, some place that doesn’t remind him he failed today.

“Ok then, ready to go?”

With a nod the man leads Peter the rest of the way out of the subway and to the sidewalk where the man opens a door to blue car that Peter’s never seen Tony drive before by a parking meter. Karen and Friday jump into the back of the car, Karen’s face hoovering closely to Peter when the teen sits in shotgun. Tony gets into the driver seat and eases into traffic.

Peter stares out the window at the scenery slowly passing by block after block, his eyes slowly blinking as a sign he truly is a bit tired despite only being up for a few hours for the day so far. 

After one exceptionally slow blink, Peter remembers seeing his favorite corner store only to open his eyes to a white vaulted ceiling instead of Queens buildings. He’s also laying down instead of sitting up in a car. 

“Wh-what?”

Peter tries to move but Karen is laying on him, lazily sleeping her doggy dreams.

“Look who’s up now.”

Shifting quite a bit, Karen wakes up and moves off Peter allowing the teen to sit up and find himself in a large open living room decorated with neutral furniture. Mr. Stark rounds the couch with a glass in hand.

“Here kid, have some water.”

Peter accepts and ends up downing the whole glass in a few gulps before handing it back to the man.

Tony accepts the glass but just sets it on the coffee table, moving to sit in a chair, tugging it closer to the couch in the process.

“So kiddo, from what I’m assuming: you decided to take the subway to school today but it didn’t work out once you got there. Correct?”

Peter nods, playing with his nails.

“You know you don’t have to force yourself—”

“I wasn’t,” Peter cuts him off, “I thought I could do it. I want to do it, it’s on my list: take the subway both ways. Today was a chance to try cuz May has to work a full shift. I took the subway part of the way to Brooklyn just fine that one time so I just thought,” he shrugs, “It just…well….didn’t work.”

The man nods.

Silence falls between the pair for a moment, Tony looking thoughtfully at the ceiling before turning back to the teen.

“Why both ways?”

“Huh?”

“Why is your goal to ride the subway both ways? Why not just have a goal of riding once a day? A smaller goal that may be faster to achieve.”

Peter shrugs, “because before, well everything, May’s work schedule conflicted with pick ups and drop offs so I just take the subway every time. I’m just trying to…you know, get back to that.” 

“Hmmm….” Tony nods and returns to the thinking pose.

Peter knows the man is coming up with some kind of plan and the teen is curious what he’ll say.

“Well first: the subway during morning or afternoon rush is quite different from a middle of the afternoon ride. How many stops is it between your house and the school?”

“Three.”

“Hmm, ok well I have an idea but you need to hear me out for the whole thing before you jump in with comments, ok?”

The teen nods.

He’ll listen to any idea if it means he can get back to doing something “normal” again. 

“So I think maybe if you aren’t so focused on the strangers around you during the trip to school you might not realize how many people you’re around. Kinda like when you’re reading a book at a café, you know you’re there but you don’t pay much attention to the other customers.”

“You’re suggesting I read during my commute?”

“Naw, not unless that’s something you can already do. I was thinking you could listen to a podcast or music or even call me just to chat.”

“I barely get signal in the subway, it’s a miracle yours went through earlier,” Peter shakes his head.

“With a normal phone kid, a StarkPhone with some secret one of kind upgrades could handle an underground call without messing anything up. You saw, or rather heard, that first hand….if you’re interested that is.” 

Peter shifts in his spot, hand reaching out and petting Karen as he thinks.

The idea of an audiobook or talking to someone on the phone seems like a nice idea.

“But it’d be a bother to wake you just for a trip to school,” Peter counters.

“Not really kid, I’ve been learning to have a responsible routine that is healthy for my body since my diagnosis. Calling me at six something everyday will be my wake up call instead of my usual robotic call….or Pepper’s call with her yelling at me for oversleeping.” 

Peter lets out a snicker at the thought of Tony answering his phone half asleep and Pepper Potts loud voice filling the area. 

“Also, I was planning to talk to your aunt first but I think you setting your goal for taking the train in the morning is a better idea instead of both ways because I’m hoping you’d be interested in an after school activity here at Stark Industries,” Tony adds. 

Peter’s urge to tell the man he wants to take the train both ways dies as he processes what Tony says.

“Activity? What do you mean?”

“Well Pepper has been getting after me to get a jump on making an afterschool STEM program for gifted teens. Like a junior internship. I’ve been saying no since the only teens I’ve dealt with is Loki and well….he’s a good kid but I don’t think I could survive half a dozen of him wandering around the labs asking me a crazy amount of questions. But after meeting you, well, if its you and some kids like you I could be willing to do a lab program after school for a few hours every day.” 

“So…?” Peter asks slightly confused.

“So, I’m saying ‘Mr. Parker will you participate in an afterschool program funded by SI and mentored by me and if we do well together can you help me pick kids to join the program? I mean if you don’t have a bunch of other after school clubs already—”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter cuts the man’s rambling off. The teen offers a smile to the man, “I like the idea of listening to stuff or even you in the morning to get to school. Also, I haven’t joined any clubs yet and if it’s ok with my aunt I’d be cool with spending afterschool with you in a program or pre-internship or whatever it’s going to be called.” 

“Oh,” the man appears surprised as if he was planning to spend longer convincing Peter his thoughts. “Yeah, well, um, I’ll have Pepper draw up the official paperwork and later when I take you home I’ll talk to your aunt.”

“Wait,” Peter glances around for the time. He finds it, revealing it’s still rather early in the morning still. “What are we going to do then for the rest of the day?”

“Well how about upgrading your phone situation, eating food, and brainstorming what project you’ll be making for this internship/afterschool program I’m creating. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Bruce will stop by for you to talk squishy science with.”

For a first time in what feels like an eon, Peter’s smile came easily and he felt his heart flutter hopefully.

“Sounds good Tony.” 

The man stands but Peter stops him, “oh and Tony!”

“Yeah kid?”

“Thank you, for you know, saving me…earlier.”

“Anytime buddy, anytime,” the man smiles warmly.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to guess what Peter may need a service dog for

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Gonna be a Bright, Sunshiny day.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805863) by [paranoidpeaches (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/paranoidpeaches)


End file.
